Hunted
by njeha
Summary: Désirée Stella Colt. Her name says it all: born and bred a Hunter's life; raised by a father, a descent of the legendary Samuel Colt, and a renowned hunter himself, and a mother, also a descent of hunters... Désirée had big shoes to fill and an even bigger role to play in the Hunter's Community. However, on one ominous night it all changed and Desirée the Hunter becomes the Hunted!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 _ **A Star's Life:**_

* * *

 _ **January 24, 1979**_

 _ **Lawrence, Kansas**_

 _ **Hospital**_

John was a complete wreck.

He was abruptly jolted from his peaceful slumber by a panicking Mary at 6 AM, exclaiming that her water broke, and judging by the puddle accumulating underneath her on the bed linen, their firstborn was finally ready to be brought into the world. It had the instantaneous effect of snapping John wide awake, batting away the last remnants of sleep. He had immediately donned his leather jacket and jeans, grabbed the pre-packed labor bag Mary prepared a month earlier, snatched the car keys to his 1967 Chevrolet Impala and rapidly whisked away a clammy, nine month pregnant Mary to the passenger seat in the totality of ten minutes. Quickly shoving his feet into his comfortable black boots, John slammed them against the pedal and drove like a deranged lunatic to Lawrence Memorial Hospital, as only a fretful father-to-be could.

Three hours later, Mary's contractions were _still_ fifteen minutes apart, and therefore no closer to giving birth yet.

By 11 AM, the doctor finally exclaimed that the baby's head was crowning, and twenty minutes later, John and Mary were the proud parents of one healthy, bouncing baby boy, eyes impressively active for a newborn – eyes the exact shade of Mary's candy apple green. They had fallen in love with him immediately, and he had already become the center of their universe.

"What should we name him?" John adoringly asked his exhausted wife.

Stroking the newborn's smooth cheek, Mary's eyes lit up as she ran a possible name by her husband, a name she had been mulling over ever since the pregnancy test turned out to be positive. "I always planned… if I ever gave birth to a girl, to name her after my mother… Deanna. But-"

" _Dean_ ," John softly interjected, wonder palpable in his tone. Mary snapped her head to meet him squarely in the eye, green orbs brightening with potent love, "What?"

John grinned, cupping her cheek and stroking her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, "I don't see why you can't name him after your mother. Just shorten it from Deanna, to Dean."

"Dean…" Mary repeated, trying the name out, her tongue caressing the letters fondly, "Yeah, Dean." The ecstatic new parents stared at their sleeping son, identical smiles on their faces, "Welcome to the world, Dean Winchester."

John and Mary did not have a slight inkling of the special little life they had brought into the world. A boy that would grow up to be a phenomenal man, one that everyone would come to look up to, the Righteous Man. And up in Heaven, its Host rejoiced the birth of Michael's Sword.

* * *

 _ **January 24, 1979**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Hospital**_

A different couple, also expecting their first child and on their ninth month of pregnancy, had just finished having lunch at a bustling bistro, and no sooner had Cameron paid the check, did a shriek emanate from Beatrice, prompting the attention to be solely fixated on the heavily pregnant woman whose sparkling electric blue eyes were sharply assessing the puddle of water that just sloshed by her feet.

" _Cam_! Cameron, my water broke!" the blonde frantically hissed, her dainty hand squeezing her husband's wrist in a surprisingly painful grip. Cacophonies of exclamations permeated the interior of the bistro and Cameron agilely escorted the hyperventilating mother-to-be toward his powder blue 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air.

They made it to the hospital in record time, but unfortunately, like most women in labor, Beatrice's contractions were too far apart. However, _unlike_ most mothers-to-be, Beatrice was no ordinary woman, and therefore, had a low threshold for pain and kept a calm and collected head. In fact, both husband and wife shared those certain qualities, for they were descendants of a long line of hunters.

Beatrice's maiden name was Salvatore, and the Salvatores were well-known around a few communities for being one of the Founding Families of a special, quaint little town, with prodigious knowledge of supernatural entities. Her mother, on the other hand, had secret roots, confidential information conveyed to her only daughter, but nevertheless, her madre was a proficient hunter who had become a runaway at the age of eighteen. Ava encountered her future husband after slaying a nest of vampires near Virginia after living the life of a solo hunter for five years, and a year later, she ultimately agreed to marry Anthony Salvatore. Therefore, Beatrice grew up in a hunter's household and was raised a hunter's life from the moment she took her first steps.

Cameron on the other hand, he had large shoes to fill, him being a descendant of the greatest hunter of _all time_ , Samuel Colt. The mere whisper of his name was spoken in awe and reverence, and due to his ancestor, was known as a legendary idol to hunters today. The hunter life was his bread and butter, and had been trained from an early age, prompting demons and monsters to quake at the mere mention of his name, knowing that if they were in the same vicinity as him, they wouldn't live to see another day. Cameron Colt was an unstoppable adversary, and a force to be reckoned with.

The moment the clock struck 8 PM, the next generation, and the latest member, of the Colt Family was welcomed into the world, a new individual that would later come to strike fear in the hearts of every encountered foe: A little girl with twinkling sapphires and tufts of caramel-blonde hair christened Désirée Stella Colt.

* * *

 _ **December 17, 1983**_

 _ **Lawrence, Kansas**_

 _ **Missouri's House**_

The outspoken psychic gave the inconsolable widower a long, hard look, her gaze piercing and soul-penetrating. They had just returned from the ruins of his former house, and although Missouri knew what had to be done, she was tentative about awakening that certain path for the Winchesters. But then, she recalled the _real evil_ that had left an imprint in that house, and Missouri Moseley knew that she should _not_ , under any circumstances, defy fate.

"Demons exist? Please tell me you're joking," John gruffly exclaimed. Returning to Lawrence was the last thing he wanted to do, but John _desperately_ needed answers, and through the rumor mill, heard that Missouri was the one who held them all; however, changing his entire belief system, his entire perspective on life and the world he lived in, that wasn't on the menu, it was not even close to what he had been expecting when he woke up that morning and came knocking on her front door.

She let out a sigh of exasperation in response, having expected the widower's cynicism. "John, come now. Deep down, you _knew_ Mary's death was no mere accident. _You know_ it was something… _unnatural_ ," Missouri chastised him, though her tone remained soft and understanding, lacking any vitriol. Studying the man further, Missouri nodded in acceptance and reluctantly, commenced with opening his eyes to what was in the dark.

By the time John departed her inviting home, he was a changed man with a new purpose in life: avenge Mary and kill the son of a bitch that tore her away from her family. Before he clambered into the Impala, John neatly folded and gingerly pocketed the piece of paper Missouri had given him that contained a hunter's name and address. According to Missouri, Bobby Singer was the go-to-guy for an induction into a hunter's life and the world of the supernatural, and who was John to argue with a psychic.

* * *

 _ **April 10, 1985**_

 _ **Central Nebraska**_

 _ **Harvelle's Roadhouse**_

"AUNTIE ELLEN!" a petite girl with glossy caramel-blonde hair, an olive complexion and sparkling blue eyes, barged into the Roadhouse and scampered toward the bar, her cheeks flushed with excitement. However, no soon had she paused by the bar, did her plump, rosy lips transform into an adorable pout upon realizing that her aunt was nowhere to be found. Beatrice rolled her eyes fondly as she sprinted after her sprightly daughter, who, for a seven-year-old, was a vivacious little thing and already had quite the rebellious streak, which, Cameron adamantly complained, was the sole reason behind the two strands of gray that had recently appeared on his head.

Désirée, her being the daughter of hunters, was no stranger to Harvelle's Roadhouse, and remarkably knew the names of half the hunters that were regulars of the bar. Also, since her Aunt and Uncle owned the joint, Désirée never shied away, which she normally never did from anything; it just wasn't in her nature.

" _Désirée_! How many times do I _have_ _to tell you_ not to run into places without me or your mother by your side?"

The seven-year-old cheekily grinned up at her father, showing off her lone dimple, "At least one more time, Daddy." Half the regulars at the Roadhouse burst into laughter, too used to the little girl's presence and already fond of her boisterous personality. Beatrice chuckled into her hand, and even Cameron's stern expression melted, unable to remain mad with his savvy little girl for too long. "Don't do it again!" was all he said before noticing his brother-in-law smiling affectionately at the family of three, his eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Dezzy, how's my favorite niece?" Bill Harvelle jovially boomed out, opening his arms wide just in time for the little sprite to jump into them, giggling melodiously over her being his _only_ niece as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. "Beatrice, looking lovely as ever," he chastely kissed her on the cheek before pivoting around to confront Cameron, a mock-stern expression on his jolly face. "Cam. Ellen expected you two days ago."

Cameron winced and sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck; his little sister was notorious for her temper. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it?"

"It started off as ten," Ellen's no-nonsense tone interjected, resonating from the backdoor, a tiny bundle in pink closely clutched to her chest. " _But_ this little one managed to bump it down a notch or two. Dezzy sweetheart, come say hello to your cousin. This is Joanna Beth, and it's going to be your job to protect her and take care of her. She will be looking up to you a lot, hmm." Her hazel eyes shone with mirth and affection.

Désirée's tiny lips were agape as she skipped over to her aunt and peeked into the little bundle for a better view of the newest member of her family. Wide brown eyes stared back at her in wonder, and Désirée was lost in thought about the certain responsibilities that fell onto her lap in regards to her three-day-old cousin while the adults spoke in the background.

"Sorry, Elle. We really did hit the road early," Cameron apologetically prefaced. "That was until we located a nest of vampires by the borders of Nebraska."

Ellen softly bumped shoulders with her brother, soundlessly notifying he was forgiven before nattering on with Beatrice while the men instigated conversation over a few beers. They were a family of hunters, and exceptions must always be made. Sometimes, the job was of the utmost priority, and innocent lives were always at stake, therefore Ellen couldn't fault her brother, after all, she would have done the exact same thing if the situation was reversed.

Meanwhile, as the adults chattered in the background, Joanna Beth Harvelle tightly gripped Désirée's pinky finger, and the seven-year-old vowed to herself, that come hell or high water, she would always, _always_ protect her baby cousin, no matter what, she would always be her protector and catch her whenever she falls.

* * *

 _ **March 12, 1986**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Colt Manor**_

When eight-year-old Désirée descended the flight of stairs that morning, she found herself standing before a complete stranger. Almond-shaped eyes widened at the big muscular man with a scruffy beard, and her first reaction was to feel intimidated by the stranger and cower away, but upon craning her neck back and meeting a pair of kind hazel eyes, her confidence returned tenfold.

"Hello, Mister. I'm Désirée Stella Colt, age eight!" she childishly introduced herself, eight fingers displayed in emphasis, eliciting a soft smile from the stranger. Noticing movement from behind the man's muscular frame, sparkling blues met a unique shade of greens, a few shades darker than her Daddy's. They belonged to a boy who looked her age with dirty blonde hair and a light spattering of freckles, his hand tightly gripping a younger boy's with shaggy chocolate curls and wide, matching eyes.

The man knelt down so that he could be on the same eye level as her, "It's nice to meet you, Désirée. I'm John Winchester, and these are my boys, Dean who is also eight, and Sam, who's only four."

"Are you here to see my Daddy or my Mommy?" she childishly inquired, cocking her head to the side in an adorable manner. John struggled slightly, unsure of what he should tell the legendary Cameron Colt's daughter, but before he could come up with some feeble excuse, Cameron himself appeared in the living room, Beatrice dragging Sam into the kitchen for breakfast. "Pumpkin, John is a fellow hunter as well. According to the signs, there's a Shtriga in Wisconsin, so you're going to have to be a good girl for Mommy and treat our guests kindly, _yes_?"

Désirée rolled her eyes and allowed her father to embrace her, "You say that as though I'm mean to people." Cameron chuckled, fondly ruffling her hair, "No, but you're a right little terror. Never know when to keep that mouth of yours shut, hmm?" The eight-year-old stuck her tongue out in response before turning to beam at John and Dean, both of whom sported gobsmacked expressions at the potent display of affection.

Not wanting to overstep his boundaries, John cleared his throat and hesitantly spoke up, "I didn't know your daughter was well-informed about…"

"Hunting?" Cameron smirked, examining John with a mixture of amusement and solemnity, "She's a Colt, John, she was bound to find out one day. Better sooner than later, aye? Besides, Beatrice comes from a family of hunters as well, so we both came to a mutual agreement that we should raise Dez early on. Don't want her running into any nasty surprises one day, am I right?"

For two days, Beatrice kept a watchful eye on the two children in her care and her handful daughter, the telephone line ringing off the hook, bringing updates from Cameron, and a few fellow hunters in need of advice, and her brother even called her once just to check in. In the meantime, Désirée made sure to keep Dean and Sam company, and despite Sam's young age, Désirée was already forming a strong bond with the Winchester brothers, Dean most of all, since he knew about the world of the supernatural, and for the first time in his life found that he could actually _talk to_ someone about it, producing a genuine friendship without any need of lies.

On the third night however, things went horribly awry.

In Désirée's room, Dean and Désirée sat cross-legged, huddling under the thick comforter, trading stories about the many cities they visited and the monsters they rarely encountered whilst on the road. The jubilant atmosphere however, came to a halt when Désirée turned rigid all of a sudden, a bad feeling vibrating through her very being as her instincts screamed that something was wrong, and at that moment, she heard light shuffling from the corridor.

Noticing the stark change in his new friend's demeanor, Dean opened his mouth to state his concerns when Désirée abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth, gesturing for him to remain silent with a finger against her lips. Slowly, Désirée crawled underneath her bed and lifted a loose floorboard filled with litanies of arsenal hoarded for her protection, and instinctively reached out for an iron throwing knife.

Barefoot, the two eight-year-olds stealthily tiptoed out of her room and into the hallway, their first stop being the room assigned to the brothers. Dread consumed Désirée upon finding the door slightly ajar, and throwing caution to the wind, ran into the room, eyes widening in alarm at the hunchbacked, hooded figure looming over Sam. Dean let out a yell, grabbing the Shtriga's attention and simultaneously, Désirée cried out, "MAMA!" just before she threw the dagger and impaled the Shtriga's back.

A wounded shriek emanated from the hag-like creature as Beatrice barged into the room, alert and armed with a gun; the second she shot an iron round at it, the Shtriga fled through the open window and Sam began to wail loudly. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Beatrice rushed over to Sam and clutched him protectively in her arms while Dean fretted over him.

Five minutes later, a frantic Cameron and an enraged John arrived. Thanking Beatrice and Désirée, he dragged Dean and Sam into the Impala and once the latter had finally drifted off to sleep, berated Dean for taking his eyes off Sam and for not following his orders.

That was the time Dean had made his first true friend, however, ever since that night, he remained haunted by his failure to protect his brother, and from that moment on, Dean's priorities vastly changed, and he made a promise to himself, to do _whatever it takes_ to keep his little brother safe.

* * *

 _ **December 4, 1991**_

 _ **Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

 _ **Singer Salvage Yard, Bobby's House**_

"Uncle Bobs!" twelve-year-old Désirée rushed forward to envelope her honorary uncle in a tight embrace, beaming brightly up at him, "What's cookin'?"

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Bobby ruffled her caramel-blonde locks and grunted, "Every time you come for a visit, you've got these new slangs in your vocabulary. Where you learnin' 'em from ya idjit? Definitely not from your parents."

With a cheeky grin, coupled with a mischievous wink, Désirée matter-of-factly exclaimed, "School! _Duh_! You've really got to get with the times, Uncle B." Before Bobby could grunt back a disgruntled remark, a childish, "DEZ!" was bellowed from behind and Désirée found herself knocked onto the ground, an armful of Sam Winchester holding her down. "Ugh, Sammy, you gotta work on your landing. How're you doing, squirt?"

Sam pouted at her, and Désirée instantly averted eye contact, not about to allow herself to become a victim of Sam's infamous puppy-dog-pout that could melt even the sternest of individuals. "Why didn't you tell me, Dez?!" he indignantly blurted out. Frowning at the shorter boy in confusion, Désirée shrugged, "I didn't know I was coming. Mom went to help my Uncle Zach out with some rogue vam- ugh… with something near her hometown, and Dad's off meeting some clients in Indiana."

"No! Not that," Sam grumbled as he dragged Désirée toward the living room where a moody Dean currently sat, brooding. "About the _monsters_! You don't have to hide what your parents do anymore! I know you know, so don't bother lying to me," he quickly interjected when Désirée parted her lips, a retort on her tongue. Giving the younger boy the stink-eye, she plumped down beside Dean on the couch. "Actually, I was about to ask 'who finally squealed' but judging from Dean's cheerful mood," she sarcastically quipped, prompting the green-eyed boy to aggressively roll his eyes. "Imma wager a guess and say Dean finally fessed up."

Elbowing her, Dean glared pointedly at his little brother, "Sammy wouldn't shut up. I had no choice, and Dad's going to be real mad at me now!"

Patting Dean on the forearm in what she hoped was a comforting motion, Désirée shrugged, "Nah. If you ask me, John'll probably be relieved he didn't have to." Eyes flickering to meet Sam's excited face, she deadpanned, "Wipe that look off your face, Sammy. Hunting's not an easy job. It isn't some cool hobby that'll look good on a résumé. It's a hardcore job and it doesn't exactly come with a lot of benefits. It's fulltime and it's dangerous, and there's no room to mess up. It isn't trial and error. You fail a job, either you end up dead, or an innocent will. So now that you're not being kept in the dark anymore, you have to train _really_ _hard_ , Sammy."

"Don't scare him!" Dean growled, quite violently shoving Désirée away and rubbing a frightened Sam's back in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

Désirée stonily glared back, furious at Dean's sudden hostility towards her, "I'm being honest, Dean! You can't sugarcoat these things, especially not to Sammy. He isn't some wandering witness or an unlucky victim, he's family! And whether you like it or not, John's gonna induct him into the hunting life sooner or later! What were you gonna tell him, _huh_ , Dean?! That we hunt Tinkerbell and Cinderella's evil stepmother?!"

"SHUT UP!" Dean shouted, his expression contorting into hate, his face all red and blotchy from anger, "You don't have the right to explain _anything_ to Sammy! I'll do it my own way! You're _not_ family!"

Désirée let out a sharp intake of breath, and the back of her eyelids pricked with the beginning formation of tears. The atmosphere was filled with a suffocating tension and even Dean adopted an expression of unmitigated shock and a twinge of horror regarding his blatant exclamation. Not wanting to breakdown in front of Dean or show how much his words truly hurt her, Désirée whipped around and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door to her room shut with a force that shook the foundations.

Bobby chose that precise moment to walk in, his face twisted in consternation, "What'n the blazes is goin' on in here?!" Dean and Sam shuffled guiltily in response, unable to meet their surrogate father squarely in the eye.

Following that incident, Désirée and Dean remained estranged for two years.

* * *

 _ **January 5, 1993**_

 _ **Raleigh, North Carolina**_

 _ **Hymettus Woods Park**_

She didn't want to do this.

Désirée _really_ did _not_ want to do this.

A mother-daughter bonding trip to visit her grandparents at Raleigh ended up – like most trips almost always did for the Colts – becoming a hunt. Over dinner, Nana Ava had matter-of-factly informed them of the teenagers that were disappearing at Hymettus Woods Park for the past week, culminating to one of the missing hikers being found with a half-eaten heart along with sixty percent of his flesh. Believing the perpetrator to be a werewolf, mother and daughter set off with their fully-equipped hunting gear and a tent.

Hours of waiting later, and they discovered that they had it all wrong. Despite there being a full moon looming overhead, they weren't hunting werewolves… They were hunting a Wendigo, which didn't fit the criteria as they're _rarely_ seen out of Minnesota or the North of Michigan.

Cameron and Beatrice ensured that the rules of hunting were drilled into her head, and therefore, if Désirée wanted to make herself useful and begin hunting at a young age, rule number one must always be followed otherwise there would be nasty repercussions: obey orders during a hunt from her elders. For that particular reason, when Beatrice straightforwardly stated the plan of attack, Désirée paled dramatically, wanting to argue with her mother but instead, dutifully prepared herself for her part in the hunt.

Once she had completed drawing Anasazi symbols around them, Désirée reluctantly nodded at her mother, and steeling herself, Beatrice walked out of the protective circle, making herself the Wendigo's bait, much to her daughter's misgivings. Just as they had expected, the monster used its most notorious ability from its arsenal; imitating Cameron's voice, the Wendigo beckoned Beatrice forward. In an effort to deceive the Wendigo, Beatrice stepped forward, her pace agonizingly slow.

Désirée grimaced, her face contorting into palpable disgust at the emaciated, humanoid creature swiftly approaching her mother, its bones visible under pallid skin. Bracing herself, Désirée nimbly aimed the flare gun at the creature, ensuring the weapon was at a respective distance from her face; in accordance to the plan, Beatrice retreated, running as fast as possible toward the protective circle, and, positioning her finger over the trigger, Désirée patiently waited for the perfect opportunity as there was no room for mistakes, lest she ended up short a parent.

Glowing, owl-like eyes and crooked, sharp, teeth infiltrated her vision,razor-like claws glinting ferociously in the moonlight, a hairsbreadth away from her mother. With precision, Désirée pulled the trigger, the hammer hitting the detonating cap, and hit her mark. The flare impacted with the Wendigo, instantly killing it… Désirée's first kill; her first successful hunt!

Stunned by her accomplishment, Désirée was snapped out of her trance when her mother tightly wrapped her in a crushing embrace, pride vivid in her expression. While Beatrice shamelessly gushed over the phone to Cameron about their daughter's success, Désirée packed up their tent and neatly organized their belongings, ready to search for the Wendigo's hideout, hoping that the missing teenagers were still alive.

Roughly two hours of searching high and low, mother and daughter located four of the six missing teenagers, the latter two gruesomely ripped apart, whatever remained of their corpses unceremoniously scattered on the ground. However, the surprises didn't end there; as it turned out, the Winchesters heard of the anomaly and were scouring the woods with the full intention of killing the monster. When John and Dean ambled by, Beatrice and Désirée had already finished convincing the four survivors the importance of keeping their 'adventure' a secret.

Still furious with Dean, undeniably hurt by the comments he made two years ago, Désirée ignored her ex-best friend, entranced with Dave, a handsome boy two years older than her who was profusely thanking her while subtly flirting with the blonde thirteen-year-old. Beatrice and John however, ignored the tension between their children, confident that they would patch things up in time and conversed over the strange pattern of the hunt as even the Winchesters believed the monster had been a werewolf.

While Désirée and Dave traded phone numbers and emails, unbeknownst to them, candy green eyes intently observed them with utmost jealousy.

* * *

 _ **May 2, 1993**_

 _ **Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

 _ **Singer Salvage Yard, Bobby's House**_

"This is ridiculous!" Désirée snapped, banging her fists against the door of the bedroom Bobby had assigned to her since her birth if there ever came a time she needed a place to stay while her parents were off on a hunt. "SAMUEL WINCHESTER!" she bellowed, his full name emanating from her mouth, an indication of her potent rage, "You unlock this door RIGHT NOW you little rugrat!"

Massaging his temples in the hopes of subduing the migraine Désirée was giving him, Dean jumped to his feet, unable to handle the racket for another minute and firmly curled his hand around Désirée's wrist, halting her futile administrations, her fist a few inches away from the door. "Just stop! Stop! Sam's not going to open the door just because you told him to!" he sneered. On cue, Sam piped up from the other side of the door, "Dean's right, Dez-"

"MOM! DAD! UNCLE BOBBY! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" she shrieked, alternating to furiously kicking the door since Dean had yet to release her wrist from his vice grip. Before Dean could yell at her to shut up, Sam's voice permeated the air from the other side. "Dez! Stop yelling! Look, you asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I want you two to make up and stop fighting! You've been giving each other the silent treatment for over two years now! So… I'm only letting you out once you're friends again," he adamantly revealed, and this time, Dean looked as furious as Désirée.

Stubbornly, Désirée folded her arms together and turned her back on Dean, unwilling to argue any further with the ten-year-old, especially after he used the birthday card which was incredibly unfair! Mimicking her actions, Dean returned to his spot on the ground by the corner of the room, and the two fourteen-year-olds obstinately averted eye contact, focusing on anything but each other for the better half of three hours. In fact, it was only until Dean's stomach growled loudly, did he finally move from his spot to kick the door, "I'm starving! Sammy unlock the damn door already!"

He was met with complete silence on the other side, which prompted Désirée to snort in disdain. Pushing herself off her bed, Désirée rolled her eyes and started rooting through her drawers, a triumphant noise escaping her upon finding her stash of bobby pins and, without bothering to explain anything to the other teen, Désirée shoved him away from the door and furiously got to work. She worked in silence, trying to ignore the pair of green eyes burning a hole through her back and after a few minutes, the door clicked open.

" _Finally_! God. I should've thought of that sooner," Désirée muttered to herself, shaking her head in shame. However, just as she moved to make her sweet, _sweet_ escape, she froze in her tracks, consumed by sudden guilt, and with a groan of irritation, she shoved Dean back into the room and softly shut the door. Dean aimed a heavy scowl her way, "What the hell? Let me out!"

Electric blue eyes flashed with venom, an impressive sneer on Désirée's face. "As much as I'd _love_ to stay as _far_ away from you as possible… Sam really wants us to make up, and unfortunately, I have a weakness for his puppy-dog-pout, so… let's just get this over and done with!" she huffed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the door. Dean sighed in acquiescence and copied her movements, ensuring there was an acceptable distance between them.

Once the silence became unbearable, Désirée rolled her eyes and decided to be the bigger person, "Fine, I'll get the ball rolling then… I'm sorry." Whipping around to face Désirée with wide eyes, Dean gaped at her in surprise, and she stubbornly shouldered on, "…I guess I was out of line. Sam's _your_ brother, and I had absolutely no right to scare him off or give him the pep talk on Hunter 101. I guess… I was scared. Terrified actually, that something might happen to him. Unlike you, I've spent my entire life surrounded by hunters… and from a young age I learned to accept death as a part of life. You know how many times I'd ask my parents what happened to Marla, or where's Chris, or Mommy why are you crying? And they'd tell me they died… I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you guys and I overstepped my boundaries. So…I'm sorry."

Dean nervously cleared his throat and looked away. Tracing random patterns on the carpet, he finally spoke up, "Yeah, you were a bit harsh, but… I guess Sam needed to hear it. When I told Sammy at first, he took hunting as though it's a cool hobby, just like you said, and I didn't have the heart to set him straight. I guess I coddle him too much and when you took over my job I got mad and overprotective and I took it all out on you. The moment I yelled at you, I regretted it… you're my best friend." Candy greens connected with electric blues, "My only friend actually. How lame is that? I mean, you're an outgoing person, confident and free-spirited, you make friends so easily and me? I'm too burdened by the hunting life I decided having friends wasn't worth it. I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean what I said. You _are_ family."

Warmth infiltrated Désirée upon hearing Dean call her 'Ray'. Nobody but Dean Winchester ever called her that, and she didn't realize until now, how much she missed hearing it, how much she missed having Dean in her life. "You're a punk. You know that right?" Désirée chuckled fondly, getting up from the floor and offering Dean a hand, "You're my best friend, Day. Through thick and thin."

Accepting her hand, Dean allowed her to pull him up and after a brief hug, Dean rushed to the door, "Enough with the chick-flick moment. Let's eat!"

Désirée's melodious laughter permeated the air as she followed Dean to the kitchen and after childishly sticking her tongue out at a giddy Sam, who was practically vibrating with happiness, started helping her mother bake a cake for the little rugrat's birthday.

* * *

 _ **May 17, 1995**_

 _ **Central Nebraska**_

 _ **Harvelle's Roadhouse**_

Upon receiving notice of the devastating news, the Colts didn't waste precious time in getting to the Roadhouse so that they could send Bill off through a funeral pyre, as per the tradition for fallen hunters.

Ellen informed them that John and Bill were on a hunt, and it went terribly wrong. Her jubilant uncle had zero chance at survival and was in immense agony that John Winchester had no choice, and was forced to kill Bill to put him out of his misery. None of them blamed John – not even Ellen. In fact, Désirée pitied him for being put in such a tough position. Unable to confront anyone and beating himself up for Bill's fate, John dropped off his body, explained the situation and ran off into the night.

They had waited until Jo had drifted off to sleep, unwilling to let the ten-year-old watch her father's cremation. Désirée had rocked her violently sobbing cousin to sleep, suppressing her own tears as she choked out a half-hearted lullaby. And no sooner had she tucked Jo into bed, did Cameron set up the wooden platform for the funeral pyre.

Wrapping Bill up in a shroud, Ellen, Cameron, Beatrice and Désirée each parted him with a few heartfelt words, concluding with a tearful Ellen salting and burning her husband's corpse, done by hunters as insurance that the deceased wouldn't return as a vengeful spirit or a similar entity.

Once William Anthony Harvelle's corpse was reduced to ashes, Désirée finally opened the dam and allowed herself to cry over her uncle's death, unable to keep her composure and show a strong front any longer. Désirée may have gotten used to hunters dying from a young age, but this was the first time she experienced the death of a beloved family member, and Désirée was inconsolable, especially when her thoughts revolved around the adorable blonde in pigtails who would have to adjust to growing up without a father.

That night, before Désirée fell into a troubled slumber, she solemnly prayed to God that, if her Dad were ever to die, she wouldn't be alive to see it.

* * *

 _ **January 24, 1996**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Colt Manor**_

Ever since Mary Winchester's death and meeting the Colts, Beatrice was considered a surrogate mother to Dean and Sam Winchester. Two boys, deprived of a mother at a young, fragile age and losing the place they called home in one fell swoop, only to live a life on the road with an absentee father who would drop them off at some dingy motel, disappear for days, and occasionally return bloodied and battered; Dean took on the role of not only a big brother to Sam, but a mother and father too, learning by the age of four to take care of himself and forced to grow up quickly.

For four years, Dean gave up hope of ever having a semblance of normalcy and be taken care of for once… that was at least, until the Shtriga hunt, when John went to the legendary Cameron Colt for aid and they were introduced to a happy family of three that managed to live a hunter's life in an honest to god _domestic_ setting. And since then, Dean and Sam's life changed for the better. Cameron Colt adopted the role of a quasi-father-uncle figure and Beatrice wholeheartedly adopted them as her sons, nurturing them and caring for them and relinquishing Dean from his profession as Sam's only protector, allowing Dean reprieve every once in a while.

Every odd year, the Colts would bulldoze John into bringing Dean and Sam over for Christmas celebrations and birthdays, and if not at Colt Manor, then at Bobby's. Beatrice would shamelessly spoil the Winchester brothers rotten with presents and home-made birthday cakes, and since Dean and Désirée shared the same birthday, the best friends would celebrate them together eighty percent of the time.

This year, it was their seventeenth birthday, and in a change of routine, Cameron and Beatrice allowed Désirée to invite her closest friends to the celebration, and that was how Dean found out that Désirée had a boyfriend, and had in fact been dating for six months. Dean had been kept in the dark because he had been in reform school during that time for shoplifting.

The entire night, Dean kept glaring daggers at Désirée and pretty boy as they stealthily locked lips whenever Cameron's back was turned, and had their fingers interlaced for the duration of the party. Rolling his eyes at his thick-headed brother, Sam ditched the fuming Dean and ran over to Désirée's side. But contrary to popular belief, Dean wasn't thick… his short dalliance with Robin had the effect of opening his eyes to truth: Dean Winchester had an enormous crush on Désirée Colt; he had been ever since he witnessed one of the Wendigo's survivors flirting with her over three years ago. In fact, Dean truly believed he was falling in love with her, and the sight of her with a boyfriend, consumed him with an overwhelming sense of envy and palpable fury.

"Désirée?!" Sam called out. Pirouetting around on her heels, the caramel-blonde beamed brightly at the sight of Sam. "Jeremiah, can you get me a refill, please?" she smiled coquettishly at her hunky boyfriend. Winking in salute, the buff blonde took the hint and joined the rest of their friends to give them some privacy. "So, shorty, whatchu got for me?" she grinned, ruffling his shaggy hair in affection.

Batting her hand away, Sam frowned up at her as he tried smoothing his hair again to its previous state. "You remember when you visited Bobby's and had that huge row with Dean?"

Désirée frowned, wondering why Sam was bringing up her and Dean's first spat, "What about it, Sammy?"

"It was nearly Christmas and… Bobby gave me these necklaces. I gave one to Dean, and I was… I was sorta saving the other one for you but-, after the fight you two had, we only spoke over the phone and you stopped visiting and once you two made up, I kinda forgot about it… until now," the thirteen-year-old rambled on, his face flushed in slight embarrassment, prompting an endearing smile out of Désirée. Wordlessly Sam shoved his hand into his pocket, fishing out an amulet. Electric blue eyes widened in awe, watering slightly at the gesture; the amulet was a metallic golden color depicting the head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornments.

Reverently, Désirée fastened the black cord of the amulet around her neck, her finger brushing against the Brass amulet in awe, "Sammy, thank you _so much_. This means a lot to me. Thank you." She gathered the younger boy into a tight embrace. Blushing profusely, Sam grinned up at her, "Supposedly it gives the wearer protection. Dean's is identical to yours… I guess, I've always looked up to you as a sister and I wanted you to have it."

"I'll never take it off, Sammy," Désirée vowed.

* * *

 _ **February 16, 1996**_

 _ **Provincetown, Massachusetts**_

 _ **Beech Forest**_

Désirée was furious. _No_ , scratch that! She was frothing with apoplectic rage.

Ever since her first kill at the age of thirteen, and a Wendigo – one of the toughest and most lethal monsters to encounter, her parents started giving her more leeway in regards to hunting. Last month, Désirée turned seventeen and her parents finally, _finally_ gave her verbal permission to spread her wings and fly, allowing her to go off on hunts by herself. Since then, Désirée exuberantly put all her efforts into searching for a case and after following a pattern of strange occurrences at Provincetown, Massachusetts, Désirée discovered that a coven of witches resided there, sacrificing tourists left and right.

The library at Colt Manor was extensive, with no shortage of books from all genres, _especially_ the supernatural section, hoarded over centuries and stacked on the shelves. Not wanting to storm into a hunt unprepared, Désirée studied and compared notes until she, at long last, hit jackpot. The coven was concocting a black magic potion, using body parts and cavities from tourists of different ages and origins, and according to one of the most gruesome books about potions tucked away in the Colt Library, the last ingredient was the heart of a Pine Warbler, and after more research, Désirée narrowed the bird down to Beech Forest.

Désirée immediately informed her parents of the case and packed a duffle bag before double-checking her stockpile of weapons hidden in a secret compartment in her trunk and clambered into her royal blue Audi Cabriolet Convertible – a sweet sixteenth birthday present from her parents. The rush of adrenaline incited by her pending hunt urged her to stick to the road, covering ten hours from Chicago to Massachusetts, and it wasn't until she stopped by a quaint diner did Désirée finally realize that she hadn't in fact been alone.

Sam Winchester had snuck into her car while she had her back turned as she was inspecting her weaponry in the trunk!

Apparently, John and Dean heading off to hunt a werewolf aroused a petulant rebellious streak in Sam, and not wanting to remain at Colt Manor until they picked him up, decided to sneak off with her and join the witch-hunt. Naturally, Désirée immediately called her parents and informed them of the situation, but it didn't do any good, Désirée was forced to babysit the thirteen-year-old during her first solo hunt and the blonde was _seething_!

"Okay," Désirée whispered as they stealthily trudged through the forest, keeping their eyes peeled for any witches and heavily equipped with ammo. "I've got two rules, memorize them! You do _what_ I say, _when_ I say it, no arguments, no questions asked, got it?!" she hissed in a deadly serious tone. Gulping, Sam quickly bobbed his head in compliance. " _Two_ , if I tell you to run and leave me behind, you run!" Not hearing an affirmative, Désirée whipped her head around to harshly glare at the indecisive thirteen-year-old. "Do you understand?!" she demanded.

"Dési-"

" _Sam. Do. You. Understand?!_ "

Reluctantly, Sam nodded, allowing Désirée to tuck her phone into his pocket in the worst case scenario that she didn't make it out; he would call her parents to pick him up. However, no sooner had Désirée turned her back on Sam, did an ugly stereotypical-looking witch jump him from behind, cackling loudly as she pinned him to a tree with her hand curled around his delicate neck.

"Fucking witch bitch!" Désirée snarled upon realizing they were led into a trap; they were surrounded by three witches. "Fuck it!" she mumbled to herself, and without further ado, blindly tossed an iron knife at one of the redheads, embedding itself into her forehead. The other redhead, who must've been her sister, lunged at her just as she shot a round of iron at the blonde. The moment the second redhead began choking her, Désirée automatically clutched her hands, trying to pry away the bony fingers.

The redhead shrieked in a mixture of agony and pure shock, prompting the leader of the coven to loosen her hold on a struggling Sam, her fingerprints emblazoned on his neck. The redhead's already pale complexion whitened even more, milky green eyes widening in confusion. Gaping at the red glow encompassing her hands, Désirée released the redhead out of shock; the witch staggered backwards, before falling to the ground, alive but barely. All eyes were on Désirée and as the leader went to lunge, she was blasted backward by some kind of alien energy Désirée emitted from her own hands.

"What _are_ you?" the leader of the coven mused out loud, a contemplative expression on her face. Sam quickly threw his iron dagger at her, snapping Désirée out of her daze and prompting her to finish off the witches.

Unable to handle the surmounting tension, Désirée pocketed her weapons and mumbled, "Come on, Sam. Let's leave this place."

"Désirée-"

" _Now_!" she barked. The moment she snapped at Sam, she was consumed with guilt and paused in her tracks, and for the first time since meeting the feisty, confident girl, Sam witnessed insecurity and doubt coloring her features. A beat of silence later, Sam slowly grabbed the suddenly timid girl's hand, making her look at him squarely in the face, "Look, whatever just happened, you shouldn't tell anyone, not even Dean. I love Dean, but… he takes after my Dad. They see everything in black and white. These powers or… whatever you just did… they'll look at you differently, they'll see you as a threat."

Tears cascaded down her face, "What about you?"

A genuine smile materialized on Sam's face, "I don't see you any differently. But I guess that's mostly because I'm the rebel of my family. I see different shades of gray and… _I know you_. I've practically known you my whole life. I refuse to believe you're evil just because you have some ability we don't understand."

"I love you Sammy," Désirée hysterically choked out through tears, embracing the younger boy. An intense feeling of relief bubbled inside her when Sam eagerly returned the hug, "I love you too, Dez!"

* * *

 _ **March 30, 1996**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Colt Manor**_

Désirée quietly entered the lounge, loitering by the entrance as she started having second thoughts about the upcoming confrontation. Snapping her electric blue eyes shut, Désirée inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm her bundling nerves. Head shaking vigorously, she snapped open her eyelids and turned to run to the comforts of her room—

"Désirée?" identical electric blues had been gazing at her the entire time in concern. Interleaving a bookmark, Beatrice softly closed the book she had been deeply engrossed in and gently set it aside, eyes unwilling to detach from her daughter's nervous form. "Why are you lingering? Come, come. You obviously have a matter of importance to discuss with me. Sit."

Steeling herself, Désirée thought of Dean Winchester, giving her the courage to finally confide in her mother. After the witch-hunt Sam had crashed, Dean started calling her every _single_ day, culminating with him asking her to be his girlfriend, _at long last_.

Désirée had never been in denial; at the age of eight, Dean had quickly taken up the mantle as her best friend and while she had always related Sam as a brother, she could _never_ bequeath such a title to Dean, and she discovered the reason before her thirteenth birthday after Dean's unspeakable words. That fight tore Désirée apart, and after two years of absence, it became glaringly clear to the blonde that she had a huge crush on the elder Winchester brother. Believing Dean would never see her as anything more than a friend, she tried moving on, dated Jeremiah for a while until their mutual break up before Valentine's Day.

But now… now her wish had _finally_ come true; now she was ultimately _happy_ with Dean Winchester. Unfortunately, she was wrestling with a guilty conscience, and her mind didn't feel as whole as her heart. Désirée had been foraging for any information about the weird ability she had showcased over a month ago, tearing through the Colt Library like a deranged person, to no avail – it was an absolutely fruitless search. How could Désirée be happy, knowing that Dean would be disgusted if he ever found out? Désirée needed to know if her abilities came from an evil source, otherwise she wouldn't be able to move onwards with Dean and with her life.

"Mom," Désirée breathed out, scrutinizing her mother warily. "Last month, when I hunted the witch coven at Provincetown, something happened… something, something _weird_ …with me." And maybe Désirée was imagining it, but she could have sworn a stab of fear and comprehension crossed her mother's face for a split-second before it vanished. In a manner of forced calm, Beatrice inquired, " _Oh_? Define weird, Désirée."

It was such an alien sentiment, Désirée actually nervous or terrified, stuttering with her words; those words never applied to her, and could never define Désirée Colt… until now. "A witch was throttling me," while she spoke, Désirée unconsciously mimicked her previous actions, her hand ghosting over her neck in an effort to extract invisible bony hands from her throat. "And, and I struggled. I could barely breathe and I was starting to lose consciousness, but-but I couldn't leave Sam, I was terrified because the leader of the coven got ahold of him, and… someth-something _happened_." Désirée started to pace frantically, trying to find the correct term, "Like I-I was sucking the witch's life out of her or something, and then." Her eyes squinted slightly, "I-I don't know how, but I blasted the leader away."

"Siphon," Beatrice shakily whispered, prompting Désirée to turn around so fast, she nearly had whiplash. "Mom?" the seventeen-year-old felt fear grip her heart at the almost haunted look she was on the receiving end of. Beatrice indicated a hand over the empty armchair beside her, and Désirée obeyed. "I am about to tell you a story, and I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt. When I was sixteen, my madre shared with me confidential information about her heritage, of the _utmost_ secrecy; I just never imagined a day would ever come where I would be sharing it with you."

Beatrice elegantly walked over to one of the chest of drawers in the drawing room, and disregarding the look of utter befuddlement on her daughter's face, burned sage, ensuring their conversation remained unheard. "You've been told that Mama Ava became a runaway at eighteen; the public were made to believe that she simply felt oppressed in her childhood home and preferred a life of hunting instead of the life of a housewife. But that wasn't the truth," Beatrice sadly uttered, rejoining her speechless daughter on the futon. "My mother, your grandmother, came from a family of witches; a powerful, authoritarian coven with harsh rules: the Gemini Coven." Noting the palpable disgust marring her daughter's gorgeous features, Beatrice quickly clarified, "Not all witches are evil, Désirée. Most Hunters believe that witches obtain their powers through demonic deals and are therefore a product of evil. But that's far from the truth. There are many classifications: Borrowers, the most widely-known type that trade their souls for power; Naturals, they are very rare and obtain their powers through biological development; and Students, normal every day humans that practice spell work, an example being when your father cast a tracking spell to find you when you wandered off twelve years ago in New York. However, there are different witches called Servants of Nature, witches born with magic due to their heritage and tasked with balancing nature, powered by the spirits of their ancestors and by Nature itself."

Inhaling deeply, Beatrice took a small sip of water and continued with her riveting tale, "Now, for some reason unknown, the Gemini Coven would occasionally give birth to Siphoners. Siphoners are witches born without the ability to generate magic, but a rare power allowing them to siphon off from other magical sources, and they areconsidered abominations by many witch communities. They are treated harshly by their own coven and unfortunately, your Mama Ava was a Hildegard and like one of her ancestors, was a Siphoner as well. Considered an abomination and treated cruelly by her own parents and coven, your grandmother ran away and adopted the life of a hunter. Siphoning sometimes skips a few generations, your Uncle Zach and I never inherited it, and I was under the impression you skipped it… until now."

Silence permeated the air as Beatrice allowed Désirée a moment to process her thoughts, mulling over the new and intricate family history. "Does Dad know?"

"I never had the courage to tell him," Beatrice sadly informed her. "Your father is a good man, but… he's too set in his ways, my star. The Salvatores are more accepting; your grandfather found out shortly after my birth and he took it quite well. I however, I decided to keep my roots a secret."

"So you're a witch then… is that what you're saying?"

Beatrice nodded, "Yes. I am. Your Uncle preferred to abandon his heritage and to this day, never tapped into his magic. Me on the other hand, only during desperate times when I'm hunting without your father. Listen, my star-" Beatrice adopted an urgent tone, eyes Désirée inherited staring at her solemnly, "Your abilities had been dormant for too long. However, they are operating at full force now, and until you learn to control them and keep them a secret, you cannot remain here, surrounded by hunters around the clock."

"Mom… what exactly are you saying?" Désirée gasped, her heart beating thunderously against her ribcage. A tear cascaded down Beatrice's cheek, landing on their interlocked hands, "I'm saying you should reconsider your plans for the future, my star."

* * *

 _ **April 2, 2001**_

 _ **California**_

 _ **Stanford University**_

When Beatrice Colt remarked five years ago that Désirée should reconsider her future, what she really meant was, Désirée should abandon the decision of becoming a fulltime Hunter and seek solace in University until she finally gained full control over her abilities. Shockingly, Cameron was proud of Désirée's decision to attend Stanford University, especially after vowing to continue hunting whenever a case reached her desk. Three years had passed, and Désirée couldn't be any happier; she had a loving boyfriend that had recently celebrated their five-year-anniversary, she had a wonderful support system comprising of her family, she made a ton of friends, and she still managed to save innocents and gank monsters every once in a while.

Also, Désirée was well on her way of becoming a Criminal Lawyer, inspired by the fact that most hunters inevitably got into trouble with the law, and had a nasty habit of being pursued by the police for crimes such as grave desecration, breaking and entry, and even murder, despite their innocence – they couldn't claim the perpetrators to be a monster or a vengeful spirit after all.

However, on this particular day, Désirée's perfect life reached to an abrupt end, setting a dark future into motion.

"What do you mean ' _it's not working out_ ', Dean!?" Désirée yelled, eyes widening in palpable disbelief.

All the love and affection vanished from Dean's face the moment he stepped foot in her dorm room, replaced by an ugly sneer and cold, calculating eyes. "Exactly what it means, Désirée!" he snapped, "This, _us_! It's been going on long enough, and I can't pretend anymore. I'm tired of pretending. What we had was amazing, but we were young; teenagers in love with the _idea_ of love."

Initially, Dean was proud of Désirée upon informing him she would be going to Stanford, gaining a future career while balancing her life as a hunter. Dean had been her main supporter, and would occasionally argue with John whenever he brought up his disbelief regarding the legendary Cameron Colt allowing his daughter to pursue a career other than hunting; driven by vengeance, a life outside of hunting was nonexistent for John Winchester. But then…Sam started idolizing Désirée; he had always looked up to both Dean and Désirée, but this time was different. Sam never followed orders, and had a somewhat reserved relationship with their father, and the moment Désirée got accepted into Stanford, demonstrating a hunter could still hunt _and_ have a future _outside_ of hunting, Sam grew even more rebellious, nattering nonstop about following Désirée's footsteps, aggravating John and consuming Dean with jealousy.

As soon as Sam's acceptance letter from Stanford arrived, Dean's jealousy turned to hatred – hatred in regards to Désirée.

"Dean… you're not-you're not making any sense," Désirée whimpered, unwilling to believe what the love of her life was saying. Dean let out a guttural yell of frustration, terrifying the caramel-blonde and prompting her to jump in her spot, eyes welling with tears. "Then let me spell it out for you, _Désirée_! I. _Don't_. Love you. _Anymore_! In fact-" he harshly spat through gritted teeth, "-I _never_ did!"

Furious that Dean had the audacity to lie to her face, Désirée shoved him backwards and screamed, her face flushed with rage, "Don't you _dare_ , Dean Winchester! Don't you fucking dare lie to me! You don't love me anymore, _fine_! But don't you dare taint what we had! Don't you dare make a mockery of the happy memories we had together, _five fucking years_ of memories, don't you dare brutalize them just for the sake of hurting me even more, Dean!"

In response, Dean punched the wall, breaking it in, and when he met Désirée's eyes, he looked like a ferocious beast. "I _never_ loved you, _Désirée_ ," he sneered, the sound of her name was spat out like toxic, as though she were dirt attached to the soles of his boots, and Désirée desperately missed hearing the personal name only Dean ever called her. "You're a Colt, goddammit. Dad wanted me to play nice with the family of legendary hunters, I found an opportunity to get close to you, and I took it. Sex with you was just a benefit." Striding toward the door and keeping his back turned to her, Dean added, "I _never_ want to see you again. Don't call me, don't ask about me, don't even bother looking for me. I'm not, nor will I ever be, interested in you, Colt. This is goodbye!"

The sound of the door slamming shut meshed with the sound of Désirée's heart breaking into a hundred pieces, and she collapsed onto the ground, her body wracking with violent sobs as she cried her heart and soul out.

* * *

 _ **April 16, 2001**_

 _ **California**_

 _ **Stanford University**_

Sticks littered the floor of the bathroom, a hyperventilating Désirée skimming through the variety of results in unadulterated disbelief. She bought nearly every single brand at the drugstore, praying that one would scream 'NO' at her. But that was merely wishful thinking…

A sickeningly disgusting happy face stared back at her, when Désirée felt anything _but_ happy!

Then there was two lines blinking back at her.

Another had a plus sign, _screaming_ positive at her.

Désirée was late, and Désirée had _never_ been late, _never ever, ever_!

Staring at the last test tightly gripped in her hand, an illustration flashed, processing her results, and after three painstakingly _long_ minutes, even an ignoramus moron would spell out the apparent answer as the letters morphed slowly in the tiny rectangular screen of the stick: "PREGNANT"

* * *

 _ **July 20, 2001**_

 _ **California**_

 _ **Stanford University**_

He had been frantically asking around for Désirée, concerned with his best friend and adopted sister's eerie silence. The moment Dean returned from Stanford over four months ago, completely intoxicated to the extent that he couldn't remember his own name, Sam knew something had gone horribly wrong, and after escorting a hammered Dean to bed, he wasted no time in getting in touch with Désirée – except it had gone straight to voicemail. Désirée never screened his calls. _Never_.

The next day, Dean nonchalantly informed him about their break up and demanded he never speak to Désirée again so it could remain a clean break. Sam, a rebel by nature, ignored Dean's orders and for the next four months incessantly tried getting in touch with her – to no avail.

Leaving John and Dean behind wasn't easy, until John barked out an ultimatum, simplifying his decision, and Sam left without a backward glance.

Taking the bus to California, Sam didn't bother settling into his assigned dorm room, adamant in confronting the caramel-blonde and getting to the bottom of _why_ the two lovestruck idiots broke up in the first place. No sooner had the administration disclosed the number of Désirée's room, did Sam rush over, knocking frantically on the door.

A redhead appeared in his line of vision, a gentle smile on her face, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, uh… I'm here to see Désirée. Désirée Colt. Is she in?" Sam's heart skipped a beat upon noticing the grim expression on the redhead's face and she apologetically shook her head, "I'm sorry, but… Dez isn't here. She-, she just packed her things and vanished. Didn't leave a note or anything. It's been three months now, and her parents are a mess, they haven't heard from her either. I'm sorry."

Asking around, all Désirée's friends shared the same information. On the first week of May, Désirée vanished without a trace, leaving no note or location behind, and even went as far as changing her contact number and email address. Getting in touch with Cameron and Beatrice Colt ended with the same results and they pleaded with him to notify them if he heard of her whereabouts.

As tears streamed down Sam's face, desolately staring at his phone, a mantra reverberated in his head: _Désirée where are you?!_

* * *

 _ **August 18, 2001**_

 _ **Athens, Ohio**_

 _ **Sells Park**_

Cassie Robinson. That was her name; Dean's latest love interest and currently, serious girlfriend.

She couldn't help herself; after nearly four months of living on the run, not daring to use her credit cards in fear of her parents locating her, Désirée was forced to live out in decrepit motels and feast upon cheap food in order to save the cash she had taken with her from Stanford to last nine months. Désirée wasn't planning on running forever; once the baby was born, Désirée planned on giving it up for adoption, and only then would she return to her parents.

The truth was, Désirée felt ashamed at herself for her major screw-up… she should have been more careful with protection; both of them should've. But the real reason, deep down inside of her, Désirée didn't want Dean to be forced to stick around, and knowing Cameron Colt, he would vehemently refuse to give the child up for adoption, aghast at the mere idea of a Colt being raised by strangers and non-hunters to boot, and then he would threaten Dean to own up to his responsibilities and raise the child alongside Désirée, and Désirée couldn't have that. If they were to reconcile and get back together, Désirée wanted it to be of Dean's own volition.

But in a moment of weakness, a severely depressed Désirée abandoned her inhibitions, and using her baby as a connection to Dean, cast a tracking spell, pinpointing his location to Athens, Ohio. However, the last thing she ever expected to witness, was _her_ Dean seriously considering a future with a gorgeous woman that wasn't her, and Désirée's heart ached in agony.

Shaking off the sensation of being watched, Désirée caressed her six month bump and turned away from the excruciating scene of Dean and Cassie locked in a passionate kiss as they took a romantic stroll through the park. Roughly wiping away her tears, Désirée clambered into her car and drove off, vowing to never seek Dean Winchester ever again for as long as she lived.

It was time to close the chapter of Dean Winchester from her life.

* * *

 _ **September 1, 2001**_

 _ **Central Nebraska**_

 _ **An Abandoned Warehouse**_

"I hate meeting up here," sixteen-year-old Jo Harvelle grumbled, a slight whine palpable in her tone.

Désirée smiled sadly and shrugged, "It's the only place your mom wouldn't come looking for you, Joey, stop whining, you're just lucky I kept in touch with you."

Jo warily eyed her cousin and role model's six-month belly, "Yeah, about that, Dez. I mean, not to sound ungrateful or anything, 'cause I'm totally psyched you kept in touch with me, but… you _need_ help. Screw Dean fucking Winchester finding out! At least let my mom take care of you-"

"No!" Désirée abruptly interjected, electric blues glinting furiously at the mere sound of Dean's name, "I can't risk it, Joey. Aunt Ellen may be more lenient than my Dad, but family means everything to us Colts, and… like my Dad, she won't accept my baby being raised by non-hunters."

Despite the radiant pregnancy glow Désirée seemed to be emitting, she looked gaunt for a woman halfway through her sixth month of pregnancy and her complexion lost its previous luster, worrying Jo who felt out of depth. "About that… did you find out the sex of the baby yet?" Jo inquired; she would never verbally admit it, but Jo desperately hoped Désirée would change her mind about keeping the Colt Jr. Family meant everything to Jo Harvelle, especially after losing her father at such a young age, and she hoped that as the months passed, that Désirée would get attached the latest member of their family – unfortunately as the months went by, Désirée's decision had become more profound, unwavering.

Désirée sadly shook her head in negative, "I can't get attached, Joey. If I find out, then the baby won't be an 'it' anymore, it'll be a 'he' or a 'she', and I'll start imagining whether he or she will inherit Dean's eyes and my hair, or-" sucking in a sharp intake of breath, Désirée harshly pulled on her locks, " _See_! I c-can't, I just… my thoughts cannot go there!"

"Okay, okay, relax. Calm down, Dez," Jo held her hands up in a placating motion in an effort to alleviate the tension. "Stress can't be good for the baby. We won't talk about it anymore, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I'm good," Désirée breathed out, checking the time on her watch before smiling bitterly at her cousin. "You gotta go back, cuz. You mom will start wondering where you are and send out the rescue team," she chuckled, prompting Jo to roll her eyes in irritation; it was no secret that Ellen Harvelle had created a new definition for the term 'overprotective'. Ever since Bill's death, the woman coddled Jo to the point of insanity. "Before you leave, Joey, promise me, no matter what, never tell anyone about my pregnancy. Promise me. Not a single soul."

Grudgingly, Jo obediently nodded, "I don't like it, but… ugh, _I promise_! Your secret's in the vault."

Exchanging one last tender embrace, the cousins split up.

* * *

 _ **October 27, 2001**_

 _ **Nashville, Tennessee**_

 _ **Downtown**_

Heart beating thunderously, elbows and knees scraped against the asphalt, perspiration accumulating on her face and she had a stitch on her side from frantically running away from her pursuer.

Désirée had become complacent during her pregnancy. Carrying the necessary ammo on her person, the twenty-two-year-old well over her seventh month of pregnancy never expected to be chased by a werewolf throughout the bustling downtown. It wasn't even a full moon for crying out loud, meaning Désirée had the misfortune of encountering a Pure-blood werewolf, who could transform at will and had benefits of enhanced speed and strength whilst in human form, which didn't bode well for the hysterical pregnant woman.

Coarse breathing fanned the nape of her neck, and Désirée desperately reached for the weapon concealed in her boot, only for the werewolf to impale her with his claws, tearing through her womb as though it were made out of butter. Désirée screamed in agony, the feel of his claws scraping against her insides making her feel faint from the rapid loss of blood, and she battled fiercely to remain conscious, at least for the sake of her baby. But the werewolf quickly moved on, and began tearing apart the flesh from her arms and legs, and in a shocking display of monstrosity, the werewolf ruthlessly tore her fetus from her womb.

The silence was so intense; there were no telltale signs of the baby being alive: no shuffling against the asphalt, no deafening wails… _absolutely nothing_.

"MY BABY!" Désirée bellowed, her voice gurgling as blood amassed in her throat, spilling out of her mouth. "YOU EVIL, SICK SON OF A BITCH! _MY BABY_!"

The werewolf growled, ready to deliver a fatal bite on the crook between her neck and shoulder, when all of a sudden, the heavy weight disappeared and the werewolf choked out his last breath from a close distance. Groggily, electric blue eyes distinguished an extracted heart nearby, and she extended all her remaining strength on reaching out for her baby.

"Shh, shhh, it's okay. You're safe, you're safe," a smooth, husky voice breathily reassured her. The stranger cautiously carried the eerily still baby in his hand and allowed a few drops of crimson liquid into its mouth.

"Wha-" Désirée was cut off by the heavenly sound of her baby's hysterical wails, and she let out one last breath of relief before allowing herself to succumb to the welcoming darkness. The devastatingly handsome stranger with chocolate wavy hair and entrancing forest green eyes let out a shocked yell and quickly fed her his blood. Unconsciously swallowing the liquid, Désirée's savior could only hear the weak heartbeat of the preemie, his enhanced hearing unable to distinguish the caramel-blonde's heartbeat.

Désirée Stella Colt was dead.

* * *

 ** _October 28, 2001_**

 _ **Nashville, Tennessee**_

 _ **Crooked Inn**_

Electric blue eyes snapped open, a harsh gasp emanating from her. Almost instantaneously, her hand went to stroke her womb, only to freak out upon finding her baby bump that she had grown accustomed to was completely gone, her toned, hourglass figure mysteriously restored.

"She's okay. She's alive," a husky voice sharply intruded her meltdown. Electric blues and forest greens connected, " _You_! You're the one who saved me-, wait, did you say she…" Désirée trailed off as her eyes settled onto the unhealthy but _alive_ preemie in her savior's hand, and she immediately looked away, not wanting to form any attachments to her daughter and distinguish which features she inherited. "What happened?" she whispered instead, eyes welling with tears as they burned a hole into the opposite wall.

"I'll tell you, I-I just need you to hear me out without freaking out," the stranger slowly imparted. "My name, is Stefan Salvatore-" Désirée sucked in a sharp intake of breath and pivoted around, finally meeting his eyes, "-every once in a while, I visit my hometown to check in on my family and I recently found out about your mother. You see, I've only known about Zach, and I discovered he had an older sister, Beatrice, so I decided to check on her, see how she's doing. Five months ago, I watched your mother from afar; she was in tears, agitated about your disappearance, which is how I found out about you. So I decided to check on you, check on whether you're alive and hopefully talk you into going home. I finally found you at Athens-"

"That was you," Désirée marveled to herself, eyes widening on the strange relative of hers in wonderment. "I felt as though I was being watched. It was you."

Stefan smiled sadly, "I decided to follow you and protect you from a distance, until last night. I was too late. I'm sorry. I thought you'd be safe in the crowd while I went to feed, but… apparently I was wrong. I'm so sorry."

Désirée frowned, a few things not adding up, "Why would you be sorry and-, why didn't you just come up to me? I would've liked to know I had more family from my mother's side."

A bitter smile materialized on Stefan's handsome face, "Désirée, I'm not human. …I've been seventeen years old since 1864…"And that was how Désirée discovered there was a different species of vampire out there, and that the reason why her grandfather was so accepting of Mama Ava's witch roots, was because vampires existed in the Salvatore family tree; two in particular: Damon and Stefan Salvatore. And then… Stefan delivered the harsh truth… Désirée was in transition. Either she fed on blood and became what she hunted, or chose not to and wither away into the afterlife in twenty-four hours.

"I managed to give your daughter a few drops of my blood, it's how she's managing to survive, but-, I was too late to help you. By the time I fed you my blood, your heart stopped, activating your transition into a vampire. I truly am sorry," Stefan's face genuinely portrayed remorse, but Désirée felt nothing but gratitude toward him.

Ten hours later, Stefan relinquished the preemie to the nearest hospital.

Seven hours afterwards, Désirée completed her transition.

* * *

 _ **October 30, 2001**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Gloria's Bar**_

"My, my, look what the wind blew in. Stefan Salvatore in my bar," Gloria cackled happily, glittering onyx eyes scrutinizing the bemused expression on the vampire's face. Stefan frowned, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Gloria huffed in a mixture of fond amusement and irritation, "Depends what day you ask-" Her face melted into grief when her eyes flickered to the figure beside him, and she bustled over to the daughter of one her dearest friends, "Oh, Star. What happened to you?" Gloria embraced Désirée.

"I was attacked by a werewolf. As you can see… I didn't make it." Just like Harvelle's Roadhouse, Désirée was no stranger to Gloria's Bar. It was only after Beatrice ultimately divulged the family secret and explained the different classification of witches, did Désirée understand that Gloria was a powerful witch, and since then, the quasi-immortal witch inducted her into witchcraft, adopting the mantle of her mentor.

However, Gloria failed to enlighten her about the different classification of vampires for some unknown reason.

One hour of tears and schemes later, the three supernatural entities looked at each other grimly.

"Are you sure, Star?" Gloria probed, her tone conflicted, yet understanding.

Désirée nodded instantaneously in affirmative, "Yes. What other choice do I have!?"

"Once you do this, there's no going back," Stefan grimaced, not wanting his descendant to regret her decision someday in the murky future.

"I know," Désirée acknowledged in a firm, but mournful voice.

* * *

 _ **October 31, 2001**_

 _ **Chicago Illinois**_

 _ **Cemetery**_

A hunter's pyre was produced for the recently fallen hunter who had been wholeheartedly loved by all.

However, an inconsolable Beatrice Colt née Salvatore was adamant that her daughter deserved a headstone and a proper funeral, before her body was to be cremated.

Nearly all Désirée's high school and university friends were in attendance, along with her family from both her Colt and Salvatore side, and a plethora of hunters, all of them showing up to pay their respects to one of the growing legends in the Hunter Community. Désirée had a closed casket as her body was brutally mauled, her intestines and most of her organs vividly displayed for all to see, and only her face remained untouched, frozen in perpetual beauty and the picture of peace.

Once Désirée's friends departed, Cameron and Beatrice stepped forward and opened the casket, and together, they salted and burned her corpse, ensuring their daughter a peaceful afterlife in the Heavens. Slowly, the casket was lowered into the grave, prompting tears all around, though none as devastating as Cameron and Beatrice.

"It's not right!" Beatrice hysterically screamed. "It's-it's, it's NOT RIGHT! A mother and father shouldn't have to bury their child. It's supposed to be the-the other way around," she bawled in hysterics, provoking the witnessing hunters to lower their heads in grief, a few having tears streaming down their faces. Cameron however, had different thoughts revolving in his head, "My daughter was a phenomenal hunter. She made her first kill at thirteen, and a _Wendigo_ at that! She could easily destroy a pack of werewolves _in her sleep_! How did one manage to-, _no_! Something doesn't add up. I can't…" he trailed off, finally succumbing to tears by his daughter's headstone.

One by one, the miserable hunters departed the morbid scene.

Sam, who had traveled like a maniac to make it to Désirée's funeral on time, whispered a choked out farewell, face heavily stained with tears, and left, wanting to avoid a possible confrontation with John and Dean.

Dean on the other hand, stood rooted to his spot with his eyes clenched shut. He only stepped forward once the cemetery was nearly vacant to softly lay a hand on the headstone and utter in a grief-stricken, heartbreaking whisper, "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I didn't mean what I said… none of it was true. _I love you, Ray_. _Always have, always will_."

* * *

 _ **October 31, 2001**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Cemetery**_

 _From ash to bone, from bone to flesh, from flesh to life…_

Without warning, a hand shot out of the ground.

A hand with a chunky silver ring adorned on its middle finger, reached down and grasped the hand, pulling the person out with natural ease.

Restoring the grave to its previous, untouched state, the two individuals turned their backs and side by side, they walked away from the headstone:

 **DÉSIRÉE STELLA COLT**

 **JAN. 24, 1979**

 **OCT. 31, 2001**

* * *

 **STARRING:**

 _ **Désirée Colt – Rosie Huntington-Whiteley**_

 _ **Dean Winchester – Jensen Ackles**_

 _ **Sam Winchester – Jared Padalecki**_

 _ **Cameron Colt – Josh Holloway**_

 _ **Beatrice Colt – Zooey Deschanel**_

 _ **John Winchester – Jeffrey Dean Morgan**_

 _ **Stefan Salvatore – Paul Wesley**_

* * *

 **A/N:** **This is my latest story! I hope you enjoyed it… took me three days to complete and I'm exhausted!**

 **(1) As you can see, there are a lot of changes from canon… done on purpose (** _ **duh!**_ **). I will be deviating a lot from canon. (2) This idea pretty much stuck in my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down… so I hope it's to your liking…? XD**

 **I will try and have the story updated by next week… reviews are much appreciated to see if I should continue onwards with this story or not…**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **R &R.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 _ **Rebirth:**_

* * *

 _ **November 14, 2001**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

 _ **Motel 6**_

Stefan was officially concerned.

Vampires experience sensations and feelings much more intensely than humans do, and as a result, they have a much more difficult time controlling their emotions, all of which are tied to their hunger in some way – which has been the historic norm for all to a vampire's amplified senses and feelings, their hunger cravings are much stronger and harder to control than the mundane hunger for food that they felt when they were humans, and this hunger will often be connected to _and_ amplified by powerful emotions.

Evidently, Désirée was the _exception_ to the rule, and therefore, Stefan felt out of depth.

From the very moment the euphoric aroma of blood infiltrated the confined room, an in-transition Stefan lost his inhibitions and succumbed to the bloodlust. The moment the liquid touched his lips, Stefan was desperate for more; he became an immoral monster – a Ripper. Whenever he stood in close proximity to a human, all he could hear was the sound of their heart pumping blood through their body, and after the nth time he fell off the wagon, Stefan widely became known as the _Ripper of Monterey_.

Much of Stefan's personality as a human transcended into his vampire personality, and he became darker in nature. He had a blood addiction and if he ever consumed copious amounts of human blood, his entire attitude shifted; the bloodlust made him unstable, volatile, unpredictable, rash, reckless, carefree and highly destructive. And then, by chance, he met Alexia Branson – _"call me Alexia and your blood problem will be the least of your problems. It's Lexi…"_ – and his immortal life no longer looked bleak. Damon promised him an _eternity of misery_ , but Lexi promised him an _eternity of joy_. Lexi relinquished his older brother from his role, and she became his anchor, his best friend, his companion, his guide, and the person he trusted the most. She brought him out of the darkness and taught him control after recovering from their unseemly introduction.

Stefan yearned to be his distant niece's 'Lexi', and took up the mantle as her self-appointed guide. Although in retrospect, Stefan's blood addiction probably made him an unfit guide, but Désirée was family, and he sired her, therefore, he felt it was his responsibility to train her and look after her until she could stand on her own.

Ever since Stefan pulled Désirée from her grave, the personality of the twenty-two-year-old vastly shifted. Stefan prepared himself to deal with the accustomed emotions: hunger, rage, a hint of savagery, tears, confusion, _anything_! Vampirism had an unexpected change on Désirée, she adopted a phlegmatic personality; a far cry to the girl he had been watching for the months that led to her untimely demise.

The hunter turned vampire was so unsettlingly and _eerily_ calm, completely apathetic to her surroundings, and showed a certain disdain to blood – the main component of a vampire's diet, a necessity to maintain eternal life. However, after a lengthy lecture, the newly-turned vampire and ex-Ripper reached to a compromise;

" _Désirée, you have to feed!" Stefan implored, a goblet of blood in hand._

 _After Stefan pulled her out of her grave, he whisked her off to Gloria's apartment situated directly above her bar._

 _In order to make Désirée's death by the hands of a werewolf convincing, the witch and the vampire depleted the blood from her system and recreated the injuries she received in Tennessee; Gloria then proceeded to perform an illusion spell to convince her parents that she was truly dead and then placed an intricate protection spell on her bloodied corpse. Gloria was in attendance at Désirée's funeral, and after the last mourner departed, the powerful witch cast a resurrection spell that was only made possible due to the protection spell previously cast, and she rose from the ashes._

 _Désirée was weak and pale, and her body was marred with deep lacerations and ugly bruises, and yet, she ignored the blood Gloria benevolently donated – since a witch's blood is more potent, revitalizing and filling in comparison to human's – denying to satiate her appetite and heal the purposely inflicted wounds on her body._

 _Acknowledging Stefan's silent plea for help, Gloria approached her best friend's daughter, "Star, I won't pretend to understand what you are going through, but I will tell you this; the longer a vampire abstains from blood, the more likely the vampire will become feral …until they are eventually unable to resist feeding on whomever they come upon. I know you. You don't want to be a killer. No matter what species you are, you are and will always be a hunter, and you must learn control."_

 _Gloria's statement finally garnered a semblance of life in her currently dull blue eyes, and she sadly fixated her gaze on the only two people in the entire universe she was allowed to interact with. "I'm scared," she whispered, her voice coarse and raspy. "I don't-I don't want to be a-a monster. I'm a Colt, Gloria. A COLT! I have a duty to uphold, I am supposed to live up to the legacy of my ancestors, of my father! But now? I am the monster my father taught me to hunt and to hate and to kill. I am terrified that if I drink blood, I'll lose my morality, that I'll lose my way and end up killing and inevitably hunted by my own family!"_

" _Désirée," Stefan ambled closer, sympathy marring his handsome features, and he trained his pitying green eyes on her. "I may not be an upstanding example of control. I used to be a Ripper, and I have a blood addiction. But I had a friend, who helped me and taught me differently. Since then, I only drink animal blood. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you won't lose control or end up killing someone, but I promise that I'll always be there for you, that I'll help you to the utmost of my ability. I won't let you become a monster. I promise."_

 _Gloria presented the blonde with a daylight ring, and after she slipped it on, she proceeded to hand over the goblet of her blood, "Stefan and I discussed the best approach, and we decided that you should learn control by drinking human blood. I worry that if you adapt to animal blood, if you ever taste or smell human blood then you'll become feral and a Ripper. So, drink up, Star. Drink or I'll force it down your throat._ "

After that, Stefan poached a cooler stacked with blood bags from the hospital, and compelled themselves a room at Motel 6, at close range from Gloria's Bar. Désirée was quite vocal in her preference to remain in the same city as her parents, and after their first day at the motel, the only time the blonde responded to her surroundings was when Stefan offered her a blood bag.

Living for two weeks with an unresponsive, unemotional and unmoving vampire, and Stefan reached his limit.

"Désirée, you think this is helping?" Stefan roughly demanded, and the abrupt change in routine succeeded in gaining the corpse's attention. "You haven't showered in _two weeks_ , you haven't spoken a word, you have shown no intention of _ever_ leaving this room. You can't do this to yourself. How do you expect to acclimatize to your new life if you are unwilling to see people, to _live_!? Learning control isn't only drinking out of blood bags, you need to surround yourself with people, train yourself not to lose control and satiate your bloodlust, _you need to leave this room_!" Receiving no form of response, Stefan let out an aggravated sigh and fished for his cellphone, ready to call Gloria for help.

"I've been trying to compartmentalize my thoughts," Désirée revealed in a hush, prompting Stefan's astonished gaze to narrow in on her. "You told me that all my emotions would be heightened, but… these emotions, they're so alien to me. When I think of the werewolf that killed me, I feel murderous rage. When he ripped my baby from my womb, I felt that murderous rage, but now? Now, when I think about it, I itch for blood. I feel the urge to sink my teeth into someone's neck and rip them to shreds to blow off steam… and that-that terrifies me, Stefan."

Stefan felt relief upon noticing the rivulet of tears cascading down her face – it being the first human emotion she portrayed after _two weeks_!

"And then… I think of Dean. My Day. The love of my life," she adopted a wistful look that tugged on Stefan's heartstrings. "You know… I think I've loved him the moment we had our first fight and stopped talking for two years. I love him more than life itself, and I'd do _anything_ for him. It came to a point that if he asked me to jump, I'd answer with "how high" because I trust him with my life. I've known him since I was eight; we were best friends for nearly a decade, and then we dated for five years! _And now_?" Glassy blue eyes collided harshly with forest greens, "I feel nothing but pure, unadulterated _hate_ when I think about him! He brutalized not only our love, but our entire history! Our childhood! _Everything_. If he didn't cruelly dump me, then I wouldn't have run away until I gave my child up for adoption, I wouldn't have become a hermit and defenseless. I wouldn't have stumbled on the werewolf's path and I wouldn't have died and become a vampire. And I hate him Stefan, _I hate him_ with _every_ fiber of my being-" She broke out into tears, prompting Stefan to hold her in his calming embrace until her tears abated two hours later.

Wiping her tears away with the pad of his thumbs, Stefan summoned all the compassion he had and softly explained, "I already told you this before. When you're a vampire, everything's heightened. Just a little bit more intensely. You love more powerfully. Anger becomes rage. When you're sad, you're in despair. Grief. Loss. It can cripple you. That's why so many of us turn our emotions off. It just becomes… too overwhelming. But… also, it all changes into one thing. _Hunger_. You have to learn to adapt, become more attuned with yourself and the change. You won't find any answers quarantined in this motel room. But out there. Among people. When you activated your transition into a vampire, the moment the blood touched your lips, you accepted a new life, and it's time to _live it_. Live your life, Désirée."

That night, Stefan and Désirée packed their bags, left Motel 6, said goodbye to Gloria, and hightailed it out of Chicago.

As Stefan drove past the city limit, Désirée bid a silent goodbye to her birthplace, her hometown, her parents, and her previous life.

Désirée Stella Colt left Chicago, Illinois and _finally_ welcomed her _rebirth_.

* * *

 _ **December 3, 2001**_

 _ **David City, Nebraska**_

 _ **David City Elementary School**_

Guilt and grief can do funny things to people. It changes them, changes their perspectives… makes a person more reckless, more self-destructive.

For sixteen-year-old Jo Harvelle, the amalgamated grief and guilt eating at her conscience evoked unlimited self-condemnation and a lack of fear of consequences; her sense of morality became a muddy morass.

 _Désirée's death was_ her _fault_!

For the past month, those words constantly revolved in the recess of her mind, like an interminable mantra. Jo was the only person aware of Désirée's pregnancy and therefore, vulnerability; Jo revered and idolized her cousin; the elder girl inspired Jo to do great, to be better, and whenever anybody asked the youngest Colt, ' _where do you see yourself ten years from now?_ ' or ' _who do you want to be in the future?_ ' Jo Harvelle's answer never wavered, it remained unchanged: she wanted to be just like Désirée. Therefore, when her greatest idol trusted her with a deep secret, Jo didn't hesitate to lock it up in the vault and throw away the key.

 _And therein lay her overwhelming, crushing guilt._

Since Jo was family, despite her age, she was one of the chosen few allowed to see her cousin's mutilated corpse, and unlike her mother, her uncle and aunt, Jo immediately added two and two together. The cavernous wound in her stomach was a telltale sign; the werewolf exploited Désirée's weakness, and the horrible picture that was painted was a crushing blow to the sixteen-year-old, the grief and guilt paralyzing her. Her brave cousin had gotten so big and therefore, slow, she couldn't escape the monster that pursued her, and it preyed on her vulnerability by ripping out the fetus from her womb in a display of utmost brutality. Unbeknownst to her family, they didn't only lose Désirée, but her unborn child.

That gruesome fact prompted Jo into skipping the stages of grief… _screw acceptance_! Jo wanted vengeance! She wanted to become the best hunter she could be and annihilate all the abominations from the universe. _Especially werewolves_!

Blinded by her solemn vow of vengeance, when Gordon Walker – a hunter that was rough around the edges who happened to be her friend of four years whom she harbored a huge crush on – waylaid her on her way to school, claiming he needed assistance in killing a rawhead, Jo didn't hesitate. Jonever fit in with the rest of her peers and therefore disliked attending school; for the past month, she regarded it as a total waste of her time and had no friends as they all viewed her as _the freak with the knife collection_.

Jo's need for revenge and her lack of fear toward the consequences of her action, consolidated with her deprivation of perception, judgment and reason, and her blind faith in Gordon, had her blindsided to his true intentions and his subtle manipulation. It was only when Jo stood exposed in the basement of the elementary school, did she finally comprehend what Gordon truly meant by _"need assistance_ ".

Rawheads were a type of hairy, ragged-looking humanoid with leathery skin, and clawed hands and feet that lurked in basements and preyed upon children; no-brainer why this certain rawhead chose to creep around in the basement of David City Elementary School.

 _Jo however, was meant to act as its bait_.

She felt like a _complete idiot_ for actually believing Gordon recognized her as an equal. To the older hunter, she was nothing but a kid playing dress up, despite the fact that she came from a family of legendary hunters. Jo was just a child in his eyes, convenient to lure the monsters over for _him_ to kill, endangering her life in the process. She was his _inferior_.

However, as the rawhead inched closer to an impuissant Jo, all her anger and thirst for vengeance faded away, only to be replaced by _raw_ fear.

 _Unbeknownst to Jo, she wasn't alone._

 **…**

Ever since she departed Chicago, and after brushing up on her cajoling skills and flashing her secret weapon: her puppy-dog look, Désirée managed to convince Stefan to temporarily maintain a close residence to Harvelle's Roadhouse. The hunter turned vampire strongly indicated her inability to move on and start a new life without ensuring her baby cousin was safe. Although she knew her family took her death badly, and won't be getting over it anytime soon, Désirée sensed Jo would have a harder time in moving on and accepting her death, as the teenager had been the only person informed about her pregnancy, and therefore, would be burdened by guilt – one of the most destructive emotions to mankind.

As a show of trust and having faith in her hunter instincts halting her from killing any innocents, Stefan allowed Désirée to follow Jo to school by her lonesome.

The pungent aroma of blood hit her the moment she stepped out of the motel, and with her enhanced hearing, the cacophony of a plethora of hearts beating loudly and pumping blood into their owners' bodies was deafening. Désirée took a leaf out of her yoga sessions and briefly meditated; she held in her breath, and taking advantage of her uncanny speed, Désirée flashed over to Jo's high school.

The first thought that passed her mind, was that Stefan chose the _wrong_ day to let her head off on her own.

The second thought was her great desire to rip _him_ apart, limb by limb.

Unlike Jo, Désirée disliked Gordon Walker with a passion. The moment twelve-year-old Jo introduced her idol to her crush, Désirée recoiled, her 'instincts' screamed the dude was bad, _bad_ news – that was the excuse she sold to her father. Her mother however, was a different story, as she knew the truth. Désirée may not have personal magic, but she still had magical genes, and it warned the hunter was a threat. Cameron Colt shared Jo's awe, claiming the man was a phenomenal vampire hunter, but Désirée didn't care about his hunting skills, she cared about who he was _as a person_ , and how his moral compass looked like.

Four years later, Désirée obtained an answer. Gordon Walker's moral compass pointed south, and Désirée Colt saw _red_ at her baby cousin being used as bait.

Deftly hidden in an alcove in the basement, Désirée burned a hole in the back of Walker's head – the man stoically stood in front of a terrified Jo, looking the perfect picture of calm; _the little shit!_ His hands clenched and unclenched in a casual manner around the taser, waiting for the rawhead to creep closer to a frozen Jo, and that more than anything, threw all common sense out the window.

Red dots infiltrated her vision, and just as Désirée prepared herself to pounce on Walker and whisk Jo off to safety, the ceiling-mounted lighting erratically blinked before it hissed and inexplicably _collapsed_ … In slow motion, the light fixture sizzled angrily, spitting electricity as it fell downward and crashed on the rawhead.

The rawhead wailed and screeched.

For all intents and purposes, Walker may be a despicable excuse of a human being with unconventional hunting methods, but the man had excellent reflexes. Immediately recovering from his shock, he released the taser and grabbed a bottle of holy water from his duffle bag, splashing the rawhead with it and watching as it got electrocuted to death.

"Jo-"

"Screw you! _No_!" the blonde hysterically yelled, creating a large distance between herself and the hunter, "I thought you were my friend, I thought you _respected me_! Clearly you don't, as I'm only useful as bait, _huh_!?" she sneered, and not sparing him a backward glance, Jo rushed out of the basement.

The sight of the man cynically rolling his eyes at her cousin's retreating back provoked Désirée into abandoning her hiding spot. An overwhelming sense of morbid pleasure hit her at Walker's reaction upon seeing her – something she'd later blame on her amplified emotions.

Gordon recovered quickly, dark eyes scrutinizing her, "Didn't peg you to be the type to return as a ghost, Colt."

"But I'm _not_ a ghost, _Walker_ ," she sneered, derisively. As if to prove her point, she used her burst of speed to collide against him, and curled her fist around his throat, slamming him against the wall. "You used my baby cousin as _bait_! You risked her life and you demeaned her! _That_ is _unforgivable_!"

Desperately clawing at her hand, pure fear marred his features and he choked out, "Wh-at a-are you?"

Electric blues blazed with fury and she squeezed his throat, applying more pressure, "That's none of your concern. _Stop_. _Struggling!_ " It was the first time Désirée used compulsion, and it was easier than riding a bike. The hunter may have obliged to her command, but the confusion and fear fought for dominance. "Now, you're going to take my warning to heart. _Stay the fuck away from Jo_. Otherwise I'll come back for you and next time, I won't hesitate to kill you. _Got it_?"

"Y-Yes," he unwittingly complied.

Releasing the hunter, Désirée straightened her Black Sabbath T-shirt and briskly nodded; she compelled him to forget he ever saw her and sped away like the wind. Locating an innocuous mother of three, she compelled her to drop Jo off at the Roadhouse and quickly departed, trying to control the war waging in her head: a battle between Désirée the Hunter and Désirée the Vampire.

* * *

 _ **December 3, 2001**_

 _ **Central Nebraska**_

 _ **Back alley of Grey's Pub**_

Désirée was late, but Stefan reigned in his concern and tried his hardest not to jump to the worst conclusion. The sun set and night fell and Stefan's concern became harder to control; and then, an hour before midnight struck, he received an S.O.S. from the girl in question and alarm bells started to ring loudly in his head.

He bolted from the motel room in a jiffy and sped over to her side using the coordinates she sent him and he paused at the scene that met his eyes – which were widened in horror.

He blamed himself. He should've seen it coming. No vampire in history had a clean slate; no matter how moral they were, or compassionate toward human life, every vampire succumbed to bloodlust sooner or later and had a few victims in the ledger, it was inevitable… like a rite of passage. Stefan had hoped – _wishful thinking_ – that he might be able to spare Désirée the pain, but the only way to achieve such a miraculous goal, would be to hold her hand throughout their eternal life and not let her out of his sight – an impossible endeavor.

"Désirée…" he cautiously approached the weeping blonde who currently sat by the dumpster, hugging herself.

"I killed him. _Oh my God_! I-I k-k-killed hi-him," she sobbed, violent hiccups splitting her words.

Forest green eyes studied the corpse by her feet; he looked to be around seventeen-years-old, a pair of brown eyes staring at the vast sky, lifeless and glassy, mouth gaping open and anguish clearly written on his frozen face. Stefan closed his eyes in sorrow at the glaring sign – Désirée didn't compel him to relax or to stay still, or even that it would be painless. She ferociously fed on him, losing herself in the haze of bloodlust and abandoning all sense of compassion.

"Désirée, what happened?" he crouched by her side and got to work on wiping the crusted blood that stained her lips and chin, his concern over his distant niece eradicating the euphoric smell of blood pervading the air.

Sniffing in despair, Désirée shakily informed him of the events that transpired between her cousin and some hunter called Gordon Walker; how she had been able to quash her fury and spare the hunter's life despite her bloodlust and her desire to rip him apart. How she tried to calm down by taking a leisure stroll through the empty alley in hopes of controlling herself before meeting him at the motel, only for the drunk teenager to stumble out through the backdoor of the pub. Désirée poised herself for a moment and was ready to take off into the night and create a gap between herself and the teen, but when he stumbled out, his knee scraped against the pavement; the tantalizing odor of blood overrode her senses and the next thing she knew, she was covered in his blood and he was dead by her feet.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. _Listen to me_!" Stefan forced her chin upward to meet his eye, and radiated utter calm, "This is _not_ your fault. You're just over a month old, Désirée. Vampires older than you wouldn't have been able to control themselves once they've worked themselves into a rage. The fact that you let that hunter go and didn't slaughter a building full of children, it's remarkable. I know, I know, you had high hopes, I did too, but you were bound to kill somebody sooner or later, and honestly, the fact that you lasted a month is astonishing!"

Désirée didn't feel comforted when she met the glassy eyes of her first kill. "How am I supposed to live with myself? _How, Stefan_?!" she asked, desperation heavy in her tone.

"You learn from his death. You learn, so that next time, you'll find that control to stop yourself from killing the next one. You'll remember him, and it'll motivate you to save the next one, to leave the next person alive. To _walk away_."

She adamantly watched Stefan burn her victim's corpse as he didn't want to bring attention to them, especially with a Roadhouse packed with hunters nearby. Désirée didn't deserve to close her eyes; she forced herself to watch the gruesome procedure as punishment. Once Stefan was done, he placed a comforting arm around her and escorted her back to their motel room to pack their bags and leave town.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked.

Dumping their bags in the trunk, Stefan smiled, "We're going to visit a close friend of mine. She'll be able to teach you control better than I ever could."

Making herself comfortable in the passenger seat, Désirée's lips slightly curled into a small smile, "What's her name?"

Stefan never mentioned any vampire friends… in fact, he only spoke about his older brother, and the information shared was frugal at best.

"Lexi. Her name is Lexi."

Once Désirée surrendered to sleep, Stefan allowed his composed façade to slip, and he scrutinized his distant niece in worriment. Throughout her narration of the eventful day, one factor stood out and elicited concern out of him. Désirée unwittingly used _magic_ …

A witch was nature's servant. A vampire was an abomination of nature…

Désirée can either be one or the other, never both. But then, if that were the case, _how_ could Désirée be both?

* * *

 _ **December 31, 2004**_

 _ **Porto, Portugal**_

 _ **Avenida dos Aliados**_

" _Five minutes 'til midnight!_ " A Scottish woman with a strong brogue in audible range ecstatically shrieked to her gaggle of friends.

Striking blue eyes beheld the vast navy blue sky, the scattered stars winking down at the innumerable tourists and locals congregated at Avenida dos Aliados in front of the City Hall for the largest party in Porto on New Year's Eve.

" _Four minutes!_ "

At that moment, many pairs of eyes started to imitate Désirée's, all of them slowly flickering upward, impatiently awaiting the showcase of brilliant fireworks. Unlike the partygoers however, the blonde bombshell was contemplating the last three years…

His name was Bryan. _Bryan Dobbs_. The unfortunate teenager who so happened to minimally scrape his knee in a drunken haze a few feet away from a recently turned vampire who had been trying to control her rage in an empty alley. Bryan Dobbs was Désirée Colt's first victim… her first kill.

Stefan had taken her to his best friend, Alexia " _Don't you dare call me that!_ " Lexi Branson; the mantle of tutoring Désirée in the life of vampirism and control was passed onto the compassionate vampire who was well over three-hundred-and-fifty-years-old and held a certain dislike to bloodshed and brutality. After Lexi had been updated on Désirée's identity and _why_ she currently resembled a zombie, Lexi _literally_ slapped Désirée out of her depression, snapping her back to the present.

" _This won't help you. This vacant look in your eye and the self-deprecating attitude… it's not gonna do you any favors. So you killed someone,_ _ **tough**_ _! It happens. What you're gonna do, is calm the fuck down, accept the fact that you killed someone, and learn from it!" Lexi was blunt, not bothering to sugarcoat her words, "Stefan told me about you, and he's my family. Which makes you family, too. Now, I promise I'll help you, but you won't learn with this attitude."_

The next day, Lexi beckoned a groggy-eyed Désirée over to her side, and jutted her chin toward the laptop screen, allowing her to finally put a name to the teen she killed. Lexi believed that, in order for Désirée to move on, she had to own up to her mistakes and accept responsibility for her actions – in other words, Désirée shouldn't remember her first kill as some nameless, faceless, drunken boy who had the misfortune to cross her path. And that, _helped_. Désirée read Bryan Dobbs' entire background, sent his family flowers and finally, _finally_ found herself capable of moving on with her life.

Stefan and Lexi, while both having boatloads of compassion and respect to fleeting human life, had _completely_ different methods when it came to educating her on Vampire 101. While Stefan treated Désirée like a fragile porcelain doll that was easily breakable, Lexi was a devout believer in tough love. Stefan religiously stuck to animal blood, fearing the resurgence of his Ripper side and the consequences it evoked; Lexi on the other hand, always had a phlebotomist on speed dial, supplying her with blood bags, and every decade or so, she'd compel herself a new one to avoid suspicion and exposure. However, despite the fact that Lexi drank from blood bags, at times, she indulged in drinking directly from the vein, and a month after Stefan and Désirée moved into her – compelled – villa, Désirée's tutelage in _"snatch, eat, erase"_ commenced.

It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. In fact, Désirée added more red to her ledger. And while Désirée was the reason behind more deaths, she took Lexi's advice and embraced it, accepted her mistakes, learned from them and moved on to become better. Four months after the introduction to Lexi, and Désirée had more control over herself, enough that she didn't need a babysitter on call.

To show her appreciation to Lexi, she dragged the two vampires over to the one place she vowed never to step foot in for at least a decade – maybe even two – as it was unhealthy: _Chicago_.

The moment Gloria had been informed of everything Lexi had done for her quasi-niece, she didn't need any persuasion to fashion Lexi a daylight ring – a token that reduced the supercentenarian to heart-breaking tears, having long given up the chance to see the sunlight again.

Now being able to roam under the sun instead of the stars only, Lexi wanted to rediscover the world again, which was how the three vampires became jetsetters.

They started off at _New Zealand_ – Désirée hyperventilated, fan-girl crushing over the pastoral setting for the first _Lord of the Rings_ movie, the preternaturally beautiful place of sheep and hobbits equivalent to heaven for the aficionada. _Essaouira_ known as the Wind City in Africa – the Moroccan beach city was a breath of fresh air with its strong breezes; pun unintended. Essaouira famed as the world's top windsurfing and kite-boarding spit, Lexi and Désirée _immediately_ signed up, taking advantage of the sun and the sea, and by the time they moved on to their next destination, the three vampires sported impressive tans. _Maldives_ treasured by tourists for its translucent waters and home to some of the world's most luxurious resorts was next on their schedule, followed by the French Riviera town: _St. Tropez_. _Costa Rica_ beckoned them soon enough, home to four percent of the planet's wildlife species, and the three vampires donned secretive smiles during the entirety of the trip, knowing that the danger some of the animals presented didn't apply to them.

Hearing about a concert taking place in New York City, the jetsetters returned to their country. That was when Lexi met a human that enthralled her. Wanting her friend and mentor to find happiness, Désirée urged her to remain in the city and familiarize herself with Lee, leaving Stefan and Désirée to globetrot without her. They visited _Napa Valley_ and _Valencia_ before the two vampires split ways; Stefan decided vacation time was over for him and went to follow a hunch, trusting Désirée by her lonesome.

" _Two minutes left!_ "

When Désirée was human, she had many phenomenal traits that made her stand out amongst her peers. Since the age of two, Désirée Stella Colt was a rambunctious sprite; confident to boot, adventurous and spirited – full of life. Her presence was infectious, especially her smile and her laugh. Désirée never shied away from people and without even trying, always ended up being the center of attention. It was hard _not_ to love Désirée. However, the girl was faithful and a romantic at heart. Throughout her human life, she only had two boyfriends, and while her first relationship had a quick expiry date, her second was inspired from the myriad of fairytales her mother always read to her as a child. Dean Winchester was Désirée Colt's everything; to the blonde, Dean hung the moon and the stars. She lost her virginity, just like she did in her hopes and dreams: to the boy she loved and saw a future with.

But as a vampire, Désirée's personality amplified; every trait became more enhanced, and the few changes greatly surprised her. Having missed out on a lot during her childhood, Désirée's vampire side took advantage of the opportunity. After Stefan and Lexi parted ways, Désirée welcomed the life of depravity and debauchery, indulging herself with what life presented her; Clothes. Boys. Food. Hotels. Parties. Alcohol. Blood. She spoiled herself to her heart's content – but one line she never crossed, was murder – not if she could help it. Dean Winchester became not even a blip on her radar and Désirée shone brightly, finally enjoying vampirism and looking upon it as a gift.

 _Bora Bora… The Hamptons… Santorini... Brazil…_

Her wanderlusting heart knew no limit.

However, it was in Tanzania, in the heart of the wilderness, that Désirée was introduced to a new chapter of her life. A coven of wild witches and warlocks – servants of nature and _not_ created through demonic deals – who lived amongst the wildlife in their natural habitat, sensed her approach. Unlike Europe and America, vampires weren't common to them; they inquisitively waylaid her, itching to decipher her 'unnaturalness'. They matter-of-factly explained that a creature of the night can _not_ be blessed by the spirits, and yet, she was a controversy to the Laws of Nature – for an abomination cannot wield magic.

Despite Désirée's nature, the coven sensed the righteousness oozing from her essence, recognizing a certain kinship in her, which only intensified once she illuminated them on her background and her desire to continue hunting and protecting the innocent, irregardless of her vampire nature. After communing with their ancestors – who were surprisingly more accepting of vampires and of strangers – they shed light on the incongruousness of her existence.

Due to her inborn magic defect that made her a Siphoner, upon becoming a vampire, she was a full-fledged witch – a hybrid to be exact. They revealed she hadfallen victim to the loophole in Nature's Laws, which allowed her to not only retain her ability to siphon magic, but to channel the magic of her own vampirism, essentially giving her a _limitless_ _source_ of _power_.

Désirée befriended them and accepted their gracious invite into their coven; they honed her powers, educated her in using magic to her benefit and months later, she was an honorary member in their mind and heart. She left a prodigy with an open invite, more than excited to return to both, society and life as a hunter with a new and unique weapon in her arsenal.

" _Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six…_ "

"Darling, you look like you're a million miles away."

Désirée found herself pirouetting on her heels, flushed against the chest of her boyfriend of two months, hazel eyes twinkling mischievously at her. She shook her head, a bubble of mellifluous laughter escaping her lips as the countdown ended.

"Happy New Year, Luke."

The skies in Porto were magnificently lit by the spectacular display of fireworks at the stroke of midnight, and the couple lost themselves in a passionate kiss, signifying the beginning of 2005.

* * *

 _ **January 22, 2005**_

 _ **Raleigh, North Carolina**_

 _ **Salvatore Mansion**_

For fourteen months, Stefan searched tirelessly. When he parted ways with Désirée in Valencia, it was because he decided to dedicate himself to search for answers that mystified him for so long. When it came to family, Stefan had an honorable loyal streak; he _needed to know_ why Désirée was a vampire _and_ a witch.

The event that solidified his decision occurred in Museo del Patriarca. After wandering the halls and appreciating the historical factors, Désirée felt drawn to one specific masterpiece, the 'Kiss of Judas' painting by Caravaggio. Entranced by its artistic beauty, Désirée reached out to lightly caress the brush strokes when all of a sudden, some form of red energy emanated from the painting and into her glowing hand. Stefan immediately comprehended there to be some sort of magical protection and if he weren't mistaken, Désirée siphoned it away. Ensuring there were no witnesses or evidence of their presence, the two vampires fled the vicinity and one week later, Stefan parted ways, vowing to locate the answers needed to protect his distant niece.

Stefan was no fool; he had been a vampire for one-hundred-and-forty years, and during his time as an immortal, he met his fair share of witches and had enough knowledge to know that if a zealot witch caught a whiff of Désirée's existence and her ability to practice magic, she would be hunted. Not all witches were like Emily Bennett – forced into servitude or not, she aided him and Damon, and made them a daylight ring, even after she was set free by Katherine's death – and Gloria, who presented Lexi with an enormous boon just because she helped Désirée adjust to a life of vampirism. Therefore, Stefan felt it was in his duty, not only as Désirée's sire, but as her family – the only member of her family that knew she still lived – to protect her from all who wish her harm.

Fourteen months he searched and searched and came up blank. In the end, he had no choice but to return to Mystic Falls, hoping answers would be found in the many archives hoarded by the generations of Salvatores. Zach, while he preferred Stefan's visits over Damon's, kept his distance, sequestering himself in his office for the duration of his short visit. But it wasn't until he perused the Salvatore Family Tree, did the obvious course of action hit him like a ton of bricks, making him feel foolish for having taken so long to arrive at his current conclusion.

Every generation, the tapestry was meticulously updated; Anthony Salvatore updated it when he married Ava Hildegard, and again when he gave birth to Beatrice and then Zachary. Inspecting the tapestry further, it was modified in Anthony's script, portraying Beatrice's marriage to Cameron Colt, and the latest member to the Salvatore line, Désirée Colt – ' _Deceased'_ recently scribbled in between brackets. There was no mention of her daughter, as only he knew of her survival.

 _Ava Salvatore_!

Stefan should've thought of her sooner. According to Désirée, the unfathomable siphoning ability she inherited originated from the Hildegard line.

Fourteen months of tirelessly rummaging around for answers, Stefan stood by the front door of Salvatore Mansion in Raleigh, patiently waiting for Anthony or Ava to bid him entry – for unlike Beatrice and the family she married into, them and Zachary have never been ignorant of the secret the Salvatore family harbored since 1864 of their two vampire ancestors, and from what Désirée informed him, the hunter community were blissfully unaware that a different species of vampire – _and even witches!_ – existed.

The front door slowly slid open. The shrewd, penetrating eyes belonging to Ava Salvatore's collided with his forest greens, a flare of recognition in her green depths. For a woman on the cusp of seventy, Ava appeared to be in her early forties; no wrinkles marred her face, in fact, her golden complexion was seamlessly flawless, and with his uncanny sight, Stefan couldn't spot a hint of grey in her roots, chocolate curls robustly cascading to her ribcage. Stefan kept his suspicions to himself – but he was almost certain Ava used magic to maintain her youth and health, like Gloria did.

" _Stefan. Salvatore._ Look at you," Ava smirked, her husky, honeyed tone radiating warmth as opposed to hostility. "The last I saw you was May 11, _1994_. To what do I owe the honor?" and although her posture and her dulcet tone was warm and welcoming, Stefan flinched at the subtle barb; Ava was subtly letting him know that while she appreciated _his_ actions, Damon was a different story, and despite their differences, Stefan hoped Damon never found out that he failed to compel Anthony and Ava of Gail's death. Unlike Damon, Stefan knew that they were a formidable couple and didn't fear evoking their wrath like Zachary did. In fact, if it weren't for Stefan, Anthony would have hunted Damon down long ago and swiftly put an end to him.

Stefan genuinely smiled at her; he had saved her life once, two years before encountering Anthony, and it was Stefan who introduced the two, prompting the two hunters to ignore his status as a vampire and welcome him into their lives.

Nodding his head in gratitude, he followed Ava into the drawing room and gladly accepted the proffered cup of tea.

"Now, enough suspense. Tell me, are you in any dire need of my assistance?" she bluntly inquired, setting her teacup on its respective plate. Stefan fidgeted uncomfortably, a nervous chuckle escaping him, "Why would you say that?"

Ava arched one eyebrow, a biting retort on the tip of her tongue, "Because the last time you showed up on my doorstep, you tried to have Anthony and I compelled to forget the existence of our future daughter-in-law and unborn granddaughter. If it weren't for the fact that without you, I would have died and never met Anthony, as well as your efforts in saving my son from further grief and saving Sarah's life, you and Damon would have met the end of a stake long ago. So, tell me, why have you come?"

"I met a vampire recently," Stefan vaguely disclosed. "She was recently turned, and I took her under my wing… She adjusted to vampirism quite well and is in control of her bloodlust. We travelled together for a while until I discovered she has the ability to generate magic-" Ava, who had just been taking another sip of her drink, choked on the lukewarm liquid. When Stefan went to help, she took a gulp of water to put an end to her coughing fit and impatiently waved for him to continue. "I asked about it. She told me that when was human, she could siphon magic. Naturally, I knew that if this knowledge fell into the wrong hands, her life could be in danger. After months of searching and getting nowhere, you're my last hope as I know you and Anthony are quite versed in the supernatural entities in existence."

He was very vague, knowing that Ava had always been more than just a pretty face. If he revealed his knowledge of her being a Siphoner, then Ava might correctly assume Désirée was the vampire in question, never mind the fact that she attended her funeral and had been part of the few allowed to see her body before it was 'cremated'.

"I see," Ava pursed her lips, her searing gaze making him nervous. "Your friend, is what the witch community christened, a _Heretic_. Siphoners are considered an abomination due to their lack of personal magic, but Heretics? They are viciously targeted by certain powerful covens. There are recorded to be six Siphoners who died with vampire blood in their system, transforming them into Heretics. Heretics retain their siphoning abilities; thereforethey channel the magic of their own vampirism, giving them an unlimited supply of power. One coven in particular sought to eradicate them, and in the year 1903, they punished them to a fate worse than death." Ava stabbed Stefan with an imploring gaze and emphatically proclaimed, "If this girl is _truly_ important to you, Stefan, then it is _imperative_ you keep her ability a secret, because if the coven receives word of another Heretic walking amongst them, she _will be_ _in grave danger_."

A strange look overcame Stefan's features, leery upon hearing the potent emotion that laced Ava's warning.

When Anthony returned from a trivial salt-and-burn case, it was well past midnight and the only source of light available in the interior of the mansion was the dying embers in the fireplace in the drawing room. He cautiously entered the room, not wanting to alarm his wife who sat rigidly on the armchair by the fireplace, striking green orbs gleaming with tears as they bore into a picture frame.

"Ava? Honey, wh-" the nominal light shining on the subject in the picture frame that his wife was miserably gazing at had all the air emptying out of his lungs and his electric blue eyes shuttered. The contagious, breathtaking smile was emblazoned to the back of his eyelids and a paralyzing grief grasped his heart. For the past three years, every January, Anthony ensured he took on an abundant of cases, not wishing to dwell on the birthdays his beloved granddaughter was absent for. This time tomorrow, Désirée would have been turning twenty-six…

Exhaling a shaky breath, Ava interrupted her husband's depressing reverie and returned the miniature portrait of their Star to its rightful place, on the fireplace mantel.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself, Ava. Désirée is gone, has been for over three years now," Anthony declared, though like Ava, his eyes were suspiciously wet. However, much to his surprise, Ava's stunning eyes rekindled with hope, and her lips curled into a genuine smile, "I'm not sure about that, Anthony."

His forehead puckered in confusion, " _What_? Ava, tell me you haven't overindulged in wine again…"

"No. _No_. Anthony, I think… no, I _strongly believe_ Désirée is alive!"

* * *

 _ **February 1, 2005**_

 _ **Brussels, Belgium**_

 _ **Radisson RED Brussels**_

Spurred by a cryptic text message Stefan sent a week ago, Désirée secretly began the arduous task of boxing up all her belongings accumulated over three years of travelling and shipped them off to Lexi's villa in New York. Left with only a few necessary possessions and the items from her one-month-shopping-spree at Belgium, the moment Lucas left their suite, Désirée sprang into action, packing her suitcase in peace while rehearsing a break-up speech in her head.

Once done, she positioned two of her suitcases and her carry bag by the door and patiently waited for her soon to be ex-boyfriend to arrive.

"Stells! I made a reservation tonight at…" the words died in his throat as his eyes travelled from suitcase to suitcase before lingering on her form, casually dressed for travel with her passport in hand. He slammed the door shut, the force of its _thud_ ringing ominously in her ears as his hazel eyes blazed, "What is this? Why are you packed?!"

Arranging her face into an expression of indifference, Désirée defiantly retorted, "I'm leaving, Luke. Vacation time is over."

"So what then?" he humorlessly chuckled, his face looking as though it had been carved out of stone. "You decide we're done by jumping to another country. How'd you think it'll go, _huh_ , Stella? We had a nice romantic dinner and then fucked each other's brains out as a sweet, silent goodbye and the next day you just pack up and leave?! It doesn't work that way! I deserve a damn good reason!" he snarled, fists clenching and unclenching as though he were itching to throttle something.

Shaking her head sadly, Désirée steeled herself for the oncoming blow as she tucked her passport into her handbag and threw a couple hundred dollars along with her keycard on the table. "You talk as though we've been dating for _years_ , Lucas! It's only been _three months_. I'm just not feeling it anymore. This… _us_ ," she emphasized her point by gesticulating her hands from him to her. "I just think a clean break's in order before either one of us gets too attached."

A long-drawn-out whistle emanated from his lips before a sinister laugh permeated the room. "I'll give you something, Stella. You would have made one hell of a politician. Know how to let someone down easy. But what you actually mean, is that you want to end our relationship before _I_ get more attached. Just fucking spit it out. I'm not a fucking child. You don't have to sugarcoat anything, _darling_ ," he sneered.

"Funny," she retorted with a scoff. "'Cause you're fucking acting like one."

Before Désirée could even _blink_ , the back of her head was roughly slammed against the wall, cracking the marble with the force of the blow. Lucas had one hand curled around her neck in a chokehold, compressing her airway, but what terrified Désirée most of all, was his other hand clenched tightly around her heart.

"I'd watch the way you speak to me, Stella! I'm older than you, which makes me _stronger_. Show some respect," he sneered, allowing his vampire face to emerge.

Désirée closed her eyes for a moment, willing her magic to relax as it thrashed wildly, attempting to protect her from the threat; what made Stefan's message so cryptic in the first place, was the firm warning: _do NOT use magic, unless it's a life or death situation_. Current circumstances definitely fell into the category of "life and death"; opening her eyes, electric blues boldly pierced his hazel eyes, the sclerae an ominous blood-red. Ignoring the agonizing pain of having her heart squeezed in somebody's hand, Désirée gripped the hand around her neck with both of hers, but just as she was about to siphon away his vampirism, he abruptly released her, allowing her body to violently collapse onto the ground.

She greedily inhaled the oxygen and massaged her throat, her eyes burning with hatred and prickling with tears as she watched Lucas casually wipe his hand with a handkerchief as though threatening heart extraction was an everyday occurrence for him.

"You know, I've met a lot of guys that can't handle rejection, but you? You take the fucking cake!" she sneered. Désirée was a Colt, and Colts _never_ cower! "Is this what you do? Kill girls that dump you? I don't even want to think of the bodies amassed throughout the centuries. You make me _sick_ and I _never EVER_ want to see you again!"

She grabbed her purse and used her vampire speed to reach the door, wanting to create a large distance between them as quick as possible. Opening the door, she shoved her suitcases into the hallway, hesitated for a moment and turned around to face him over her shoulder.

"Don't act so heartbroken, Lucas," she sneered, inwardly cursing her smart mouth and current lack of self-preservation as she took notice of his vampire face reemerging. "I know all about that redhead you're in love with. You know, the one who's picture you carry around with you in your wallet, the one you _cannot_ stop gazing at with lovestruck eyes whenever you think I'm not around." Lucas's hard jaw slackened, eyes widening in shock, obviously taken aback by her sharp perception. "The break-up was inevitable, you're just pissed 'cause I initiated it."

Parting him with one final loathsome sneer, Désirée slammed the door shut, which was immediately followed by a thundering crash that echoed from inside. "He is _so_ paying for that vase," she muttered to herself before quickly catching her reflection in the mirror beside the elevator.

In a flash, she donned her leather jacket and zipped it up, covering the blood and the impressive hole in her shirt…

 _I fucking loved that shirt!_

* * *

 _ **February 4, 2005**_

 _ **Manhattan, New York**_

 _ **Lexi's Villa**_

" _Whoa_! I'm sorry, _rewind_! You went to Nana Ava?! Are you _crazy?_! Or are you trying to get me _killed_!" Désirée shrieked, barely processing Stefan's lengthy speech.

Just as Stefan opened his mouth to respond, Lexi cut him off, her incredulous expression matching her tone of voice, "No _you!_ _rewind_! Your boyfriend-, sorry, _ex-_ boyfriend nearly ripped your heart out because you broke up with him! Am I the only one disturbed here?"

"No, I am too," Stefan frowned, his forehead overcrowded with lines. "We really need to have a talk about your taste in guys, Dez."

"Yeah, how about we have that discussion oh, how about in, uh, hmm… _never o' clock_ , which so happens to be _after_ you explain what the fuck was going through your head when you decided to approach my Nana!"

Lexi rolled her eyes, "You're being dramatic. Just like your ex was when he-"

"Okay! _Enough_ ," this time, Stefan interjected, not in the mood to skate through a plethora of subjects. "We'll discuss Désirée's unappealing taste in men later," he fixated a stubborn Désirée with a solemn expression. "I was trying to help you, Dez. Look, I knew your grandmother _before_ she married Anthony Salvatore."

He elaborated upon seeing the palpable interest coloring her features, her tensed posture relaxing a smidge. "There was this witch in Indiana. She dabbled in dark, sacrificial magic. I was passing by when I overheard a struggle and when I showed up, the witch had the upper hand. I rushed over and snapped her neck. Since then, Ava and I formed a friendly acquaintanceship. She didn't care I was a vampire as long as I didn't harm innocents. Two years later, I was at Mystic Falls for a visit, like I always am every few years to make sure my descendants were safe. Ava called me when I was at the Boarding House. She told me there was a nest nearby and that she was outnumbered and in need of assistance. Anthony overheard and insisted he tag along…at that point, he was still wary of me, didn't quite believe I meant no harm. After the nest was killed, Ava and Anthony clicked and a year later, they got married."

Lexi snorted in amusement at the comical expression of shock and amazement written all over Désirée's face. She spluttered, absently brushing a few strands that fell onto her face, "Wow. You're like… Batman… Vampire-Man? _Whatever_! Without you, my Mom wouldn't have been born, heck, _I_ wouldn't have been born-" Her mouth abruptly snapped shut, agony vivid in her striking blue eyes, confusing Lexi. Stefan however, grimaced, the unspoken words simultaneously echoing in their heads: _without Stefan, her daughter wouldn't have been born._

"Look," Stefan jumped right back to the subject in hand, brushing past the sudden tension the reminder inflicted upon them. "We needed answers. Unlike you, Ava grew up in a house where magic was a gift, where practicing it was acceptable, where it was _a part of them_. Until she ran off, she was part of a coven that all Siphoners happen to be offspring of. She had vital information we needed."

"If you bothered to update me _before_ you went rushing in, guns blazing, you would have known that I ran into a Tanzanian Coven. They taught me a lot… how to use my magic, _why_ I have magic despite being a vampire-"

Stefan smugly interrupted, looking irritatingly pleased with himself and Désirée was itching to tear off his damn smirk. "Bet they didn't tell you you're what witches call, a Heretic."

"A what now?" Désirée and Lexi intoned, gaping at Stefan in confusion.

" _A Heretic_ ," he enunciated. "According to Ava, there were once six of them. Over a century ago, six children from the Gemini Coven ran away because they were Siphoners and _coincidentally_ -" the tone used was an obvious indication that Stefan didn't believe it was coincidental, like _at all_ , "-they all died with vampire blood in their system, activating their transition into Heretics. The Coven viewed them as worse than an abomination and they felt threatened by their existence. Ava wouldn't share the details, all she said was that they were sentenced to a fate worse than death."

Lexi grimaced, not liking the fact that her friend was a huge target for some tyrannical coven, "Meaning, you can't show off your nifty skills unless you're prepared to leave no witness behind."

Désirée was unusually silent as she processed the overload of _bad news_.

"It's bad enough that I'm a hunter, and not just _any hunter_ , but a fucking _Colt_ , turned vampire. And that all hunters would hunt me down the moment they discover I'm somehow still alive. No, let's make things worse, Dez! You're not only hunted for being a vampire, but a freaking witch-hybrid by some egotistical coven who believes they are some sort of God. Fan-Fucking-Tastic. Any more bad news you guys are willing to share? 'Cause the ball is rolling," Désirée snarked, inhaling and exhaling sharply at the end of her furious rant.

Lexi rolled her eyes – again, "Jeez, tone down on the sarcasm, Dezzy."

Stefan adopted his signature compassionate look that never failed to calm her down. Clasping her hands in both of his, he softly, yet determinedly said, "Honestly, if I were you, I'd go to your grandparents. Anthony and Ava have been keeping Damon and me a secret for a long time. They won't treat you differently-"

"No," Désirée firmly put her foot down, shaking her head stubbornly. "I can't risk it. Na-uh. The world's better off believing I'm dead. I'm not opening that can of worms."

* * *

 _ **October 31, 2005**_

 _ **California**_

 _ **Stanford University**_

A photo frame was plucked from its customary spot on the dresser. An index finger lovingly caressed the contours of the gorgeous blonde's face – twinkling, merry blue eyes forever frozen, and her impish grin infectiously smiling back at him; glossy caramel curls framing her face and tumbling down to her waist. He remembered the day that picture was taken; she just wouldn't stand still and pose for the camera, her wild, boisterous nature wearing him thin, until he finally had enough and captured her in that moment, forever frozen in her natural state: carefree, mischievous, energetic and full of laughter.

"Sam! Get a move on, would you?"

He tore his gaze from the laughing face and met his girlfriend's gaze, appreciatively taking in her attire; Jessica looked ravishing in her sexy-nurse costume, and his lips curled into a small smile when she flashed him a cheeky wink as she adjusted her hat.

"Hey, Sam, woo-hoo?" she snapped her fingers in his face, garnering his attention, "We were supposed to be there like, _fifteen minutes ago_. You're not even dressed… Wait. Why _aren't_ _you_ dressed, babe?" Jessica was taken aback, not knowing how she failed to notice her boyfriend still wore his sweats and shirt.

He exhaled a loud breath and gently returned the photo frame to its designated spot before taking her wrist and pulling her over to his side, "Jess, I'm not going. Last year your mother came for a visit so I never told you this, but I _don't_ celebrate Halloween. I haven't for four years now."

Jessica scrunched her brow in confusion. Sam and Jessica have been dating for nearly eighteen months, and their first Halloween together was interrupted by her mother's spontaneous visit, therefore, Jessica remained oblivious of Sam's aversion to Halloween, which made her feel bad – this was essential information one should know about their boyfriend, _right_?

"Do you mind telling me why?" Jessica hesitantly inquired, effectively hitting pause on her mental rambling.

Sam responded by jutting his chin at the picture frame by his bedside.

Despite the solemn ambience, Jessica was inwardly jumping in joy and relief – she won't lie, but while Jessica knew Sam loved her and would _never_ cheat on her, when they moved in together a few months back, she felt a stab of jealousy when she first noticed a picture of a strange _breathtakingly gorgeous_ girl that gave Barbie a run for her money! Whenever Jessica asked after the girl's identity, Sam would automatically clam up, his face would contort into utmost agony and he'd vaguely mutter _"somebody"_ before leaving the room without another word or backward glance. After receiving the same response three more times, Jessica gave up and decided to patiently wait for Sam to confide in her.

That day finally arrived.

"Her name was Désirée."

" _Was_? As in…" Jessica gasped, covering her mouth, unable to put a label to it. Sam desolately nodded, looking the epitome of depression. "She died four years ago. Halloween is the anniversary of her death. I just…I can't celebrate and drink and dance and have fun on this day. It's an insult to her memory. It's the day I mourn her," his voice was rough with tears, but he stubbornly kept them at bay and Jessica felt her heart clench in grief.

Looking at the girl – at Désirée – she was full of life, even captured in a frozen picture as opposed to the moving ones in Harry Potter Universe… Jessica couldn't imagine the girl, who radiated with such sunshine and laughter buried six feet under, stone cold and decomposing in a grave somewhere.

"I've known her since I was a kid," Sam continued. After four years of keeping his emotions bottled up, he finally had the opportunity to purge, and he couldn't imagine anyone but Jessica to help relieve him of his burden. "My Dad knew her Dad, they were… business partners. They had this business trip to go to, so my father dropped me and my brother at their place. I was four at the time, she's the same age as Dean – actually, they share the same birthdays," he smiled sadly, shaking his head as though jolted to the present. "She was a sister to me. _Is_ a sister to me. Always have been. Despite the age difference, she never turned me away or felt irritated by my presence. She was just, she was _always there for me_ , whenever Dean was off somewhere or in a mood, and my Dad was away at some bar or on business trips, Dez was _always_ there. She was my inspiration, you know? She uh, went to Stanford and studied law; I'm following her footsteps. Then, one day, after five years together, Dean and Dez broke up, and he never told me why. Three months later, she disappeared, and around four months after that, we got the call that she was dead. Mauled by an animal."

" _Oh my God_!" Jessica gasped, her eyes were bloodshot, tear lines etched on her face, "Sam, I'm, I'm so sorry. I can't, I can't imagine how you must be feeling. I wish you told me sooner." They sat in a comfortable silence for a while. "I wish I had the chance to meet her. I think we would have gotten along," Jessica couldn't imagine anybody having any difficulty getting along with the girl in the picture, despite never having met her, the possibility was laughable. The girl was the embodiment of sunshine.

Sam chuckled, "She would've loved you. Well, first she'd've given you the shovel talk, terrify you to death and then her mood would change three-sixty, she'd flash you her famous megawatt smile and ask you out for coffee."

Jessica ended up skipping the stupid Halloween party, preferring to spend the night with her mourning boyfriend, unable to stomach the idea of dancing and laughing on the night the vibrant and awe-inspiring girl that Désirée was, had been put to rest.

* * *

 _ **October 31, 2005**_

 _ **California**_

 _ **Stanford University**_

In retrospect, maybe Dean shouldn't have barged in through the window after two years of no contact with Sam, but he was desperate. Dean planned on calling Sam early in the morning and stop by to ask for help at an acceptable hour, but for the first time in four years, Dean didn't want to fill the giant hole in his heart by drinking himself under the table and then escorting some scantily-clad chick to his motel room…Dean needed his little brother.

Therefore, he killed two birds with one stone.

"You're not hearing me, Sammy," Dean snapped, cutting into Sam's whining about him breaking into his apartment at the middle of the night. "Dad's _missing_. I _need_ you to _help_ me find him."

Sam wasn't impressed. Rolling his eyes, he fixed his hoodie and folded his arms together, portraying complete nonchalance, "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gate in Clifton? He was _missing_ then, _too_. _He's always missing_ , and he's _always_ fine."

Dean stopped burning a hole on the ground and turned to face his brother with a solemn look, "Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?"

Sam chose a different tactic; he wasn't thinking, the words just naturally flowed out from his mouth. "Did you call Cameron and Beatrice? I'm sure they've heard from him and you're freaking out for noth… _ing_ ," he drifted off, the pain hitting him hard, and no matter how hard Dean tried to hide it, he easily saw through the stony façade that masked his true emotions.

Désirée may be gone, but Cameron and Beatrice never cut any ties with the Winchester brothers.

Beatrice religiously called Sam once a week, sometimes twice, and if Cameron was around, he'd join the conversation; it felt good to talk about Stanford and his life without hunting to parental figures in his life. Unlike John, the Colts were actually proud of him and showed interest in his day-to-day activities. In fact, Beatrice has been quite vocal about meeting Jessica and _"seeing if she deserves our little Sammy._ "

Dean, on the other hand, didn't feel comfortable keeping in touch with them, unless it was related to a hunt. Dean felt nobody was to blame but himself for Désirée's death; the way he cruelly broke up with her, it was the catalyst that put the motions into effect – he was a coward, and his cowardice pushed him into doing the stupidest thing in his life that he'll eternally regret, and she ran away and ultimately died because of _him_. Cameron and Beatrice were stubborn, and no matter what, Dean was family to them – after one year of ignoring their calls, Cameron tracked him down through GPS and bodily hauled him to Chicago where he was on the receiving end of a two hour tongue-lashing that culminated with him making a promise to at least visit once or twice a month if he didn't want to answer his phone.

"I did," Dean mumbled, surprising Sam. "Cameron's hunting werewolves at the moment-" both Winchesters winced at that; for the past four years, werewolves were being brutally hunted by the hunter community, led by Cameron. They should be nearing extinction, but apparently they kept popping up like gnats and were hard to get rid of. _Where else would Cameron Colt be on the anniversary of his daughter's death?_ "-but Beatrice said last she heard of Dad, he was in Jericho."

"I swore I was done hunting. For good," Sam weakly informed Dean, returning to their previous argument. But even to him, the argument sounded weak. The last time he saw Dean, was at Désirée's funeral, and he stopped picking up his calls two years ago… at first glance, Dean resembled his usual cocky, laidback self, but to Sam, he easily detected the misery radiating from him, and with Dad out of the picture, _especially on this day_ , Sam knew his brother needed him, now more than ever. Not just to find John, but to keep him company.

"Fine," Sam huffed, cutting Dean off from whatever he was rambling on about. Dean paused, confused that Sam was giving in so quickly; he expected to spend a few more minutes cajoling him into accompanying him.

"Fine?" Dean repeated, uncertain.

Sam nodded, "But I have to get back first thing Monday."

* * *

 **STARRING:**

 _ **Désirée Colt - Rosie Huntington-Whiteley**_

 _ **Stefan Salvatore – Paul Wesley**_

 _ **Dean Winchester – Jensen Ackles**_

 _ **Sam Winchester – Jared Padalecki**_

 _ **Ava Salvatore – Vanessa L. Williams**_

 _ **Anthony Salvatore – Mark Harmon**_

 _ **Lexi Branson – Arielle Kebbel**_

* * *

 **A/N:** **Due to the great feedback, I decided to continue with this story! XD**

 **(1) Désirée was a girl who had everything. Unlike most hunters (the Winchesters especially) she wasn't raised the typical hunter life. She had a stable home, two loving parents and grandparents, two uncles, an aunt and a cousin. She had friends, and went to** _ **one**_ **school (although she probably had a lot of absences if any hunts came up) and she was raised in a hunter community. However, she was an adventurous girl, confident, energetic, rebellious… so those traits magnified when she became a vampire. (2) About the whole traveling gig – it's kind of personal. You see, I've always wanted to travel the world and with Désirée's adventurous side, I had her carry out my dream, LOL (although she didn't travel the world yet). Let's be honest here, we all thought** _ **'what-ifs: what if vampires**_ **did** _ **exist**_ **&** _ **what if I actually became a vampire'**_ **let's be honest, no matter how moral you are, most people will abuse their compulsion ability. If I were a vampire, I'd use my abilities to travel the world, LOL. So that's where the idea of Désirée's adventures came from. (3) About her jackass vampire boyfriend Lucas (Luke), we haven't seen the end of him. He's a little plot-twister in the story, which is why I didn't add much background to him and kept his parts vague. And about him calling Stella (her middle name), that'll be explained later on. Be patient! XD (4) Anthony and Ava Salvatore … if I were to roughly calculate and estimate their age, Ava would be around 71 years old and Anthony would be maybe 74, 75… but if you recognize who they are portrayed as, you'd notice how young and smoking hot they look… hint: magic is an important factor into the why, and I'll press on that later as the story progresses. (5) Heretics are introduced early to Stefan (TVD-Verse)… got a lot of plots surrounding that and the Gemini Coven (which – BTW – hate them!). (6) As you can see, I got Lexi a daylight ring early on… I mean, it's kind of ridiculous if I didn't give her one, right? With Gloria in the picture, I cannot imagine Lexi not having one after all she did and being her honorary niece's friend. (7) In my opinion, Caroline Forbes as a vampire was very Mary-Sue (I adore her and she is my fav. character so NO I am NOT bashing her, like NEVER)… but she is impressive and a natural when it comes to being a vampire. Désirée on the other hand, will have many difficulties. She didn't just kill one person, as you read, she killed quite a few. Désirée is first and foremost, a HUNTER, vampire or not, she is dedicated to protecting innocents and killing off monsters who act like monsters, however, as time passes by, she will go through a lot of tribulations and her morality will get a little skewed. This isn't a spoiler alert or anything, I'm just trying to convey that Désirée won't be a Mary-Sue vampire. And who knows, (HINTING A TINY SPOILER ALERT) maybe there will be a couple of times that Désirée turns her humanity off… maybe… ;) (8) The end of this chapter: We have reached Season 1 of Supernatural. TVD begins 2009, which coincides with Season 5 of SPN (** _ **right? If I am wrong, please correct me in a review**_ **). To end my note (rambling), I won't be showing every single hunt Dean and Sam went on, 'cause that could get boring. I** _ **will**_ **be deviating from canon, so if you see things happening differently, or things that don't add up, I did it on purpose…**

 **Question: Should I kill Lexi off like in canon, or would you prefer she survives?**

 **And surprise for next chapter; a fan-favorite character will be introduced! ;)**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **R &R.**


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